becoming naked without fear,
in wind that is a part of them,
disclose a beauty in this death,
become new shapes, interior.
To live they cannot hoard;
this losing, too, is growth.
New shapes emerge, new vision clears.
Surrender strengthens in the soul another song.
This emptying is confidence in spring, but more—a faithing in the growth that’s come before, a counting of the gifts
and then releasing one by one,
so as to give again,
knowing growth is not a season,
but is in the root of things.
This is no losing,
but a becoming.
Coveting such openness
of limb and heart and hand,
such bareness in the singing, I only now discover that I want
this wind, blowing where it will,
Pastor Steve Garnaas Holmes
(Poem was published in September 2015 issue of Weavings monthly newsletter)
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