A Yes to everything.
Resistance to the wind.
The helpless and
hopeless surrender to what is.
As we are thrown around
by gales and storms
and caressed by the pleasing breeze.
The passion for the Divine
is overtaking us in our own house.
It will empty us of all
of what we think we are.
And take ownership.
Like the landlord who claims
his rightful place.
He does not shy away from the things
we rather hide and bury under the floor boards.
While we attempt to block our ears
for the skeletons in the cupboard
who are rattling their bones
and for their yearning calls
to be heard and included,
He invites them all into his gaze.
And by doing so plucks away
the hidden dresses and costumes
we had forgotten
are still wearing our names.
He does not leave until all is His.