PoetryFind Your Quiet in The Storm by Etheric EchosSome days, the world feels too sharp,
Too loud, too raw to touch. Headlines scream, phones ring, And chaos dances at our doorstep. But I've learned to find sanctuary In small moments of grace-- The way sunlight paints shadows on walls, How wind whispers through leaves, The steady rhythm of my own breath When I remember to just... breathe. I've learned to turn off the noise, To silence the endless chatter, To find strength in gentle things-- A cup of coffee at dawn, A moment of kindness between strangers, The quiet courage of growing things. They say the world's gone mad, But perhaps the secret is knowing When to step away from the storm, When to guard your peace like gold, When to let your heart be still In a world that never stops spinning. For in this rush of endless moments, We must remember to be gentle With ourselves, with each other, To find beauty in broken places, To create spaces of quiet wonder In corners of our own making. This is how we stay whole-- Not by hardening our hearts, But by knowing when to soften, When to rest, when to breathe, When to let the world's noise fade Into the background of our being. I feel sorry for Jesus by Naomi Shihab NyeI feel sorry for Jesus
People won’t leave Him alone. I know He said, wherever two or more are gathered in my name… But I bet some days He regrets it. Cozily they tell you what he wants and doesn’t want as if they just got an e-mail. Remember “Telephone,” that pass-it-on game where the message changed dramatically by the time it rounded the circle? Well. People blame terrible pieties on Jesus. They want to be his special pet. Jesus deserves better. I think He’s been exhausted for a very long time. He went into the desert, friends. He didn’t go into the pomp. He didn’t go into the golden chandeliers and say, the truth tastes better here. See? I’m talking like I know. It’s dangerous talking for Jesus. You get carried away almost immediately. I stood in the spot where He was born. I closed my eyes where He died and didn’t die. Every twist of the Via Dolorosa was written on my skin. And that makes me feel like being silent for Him, you know? A secret pouch of listening. You won’t hear me mention this again. Invincible Summer by Albert CamusMy dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that… In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back. Truly yours – Albert Camus, Fearing Paris
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Forgiveness
Is the mightiest sword Forgiveness of those you fear Is the highest reward When they bruise you with words When they make you feel small When it’s hardest to take You must do nothing at all… I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
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