Dear Miracle

Setting free the beautiful truth inside.

Life is Charmed!

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I visited Hawaii last week for a much needed break from the never-ending Pacific Northwest winter rains–or so it seems. Lucky me! Look what I came back with! This is my favorite photo of the many I took. Hope you enjoy it, too!

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Advice from a Dying 24 Year-old

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walking-into-the-sunset-copy

I came across this today and felt compelled to share.


“Soon I will be gone forever, but that’s okay as long as someone reads this. I am only 24 years old, yet I have actually already chosen my last tie. It’s the one that I will wear on my funeral a few months from now. It may not match my suit, but I think it’s perfect for the occasion.

The cancer diagnosis came too late to give me at least a tenuous hope for a long life, but I realized that the most important thing about death is to ensure that you leave this world a little better than it was before you existed with your contributions . The way I’ve lived my life so far, my existence or more precisely the loss of it, will not matter because I have lived without doing anything impactful.

Before, there were so many things…

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Before the Smoldering Turns Cold

smoldering roseBefore the passion in me dies,

while I can still breathe and inhale

the sweetness of jasmine in spring and

feel the ocean pouring between my toes,

I want to stand in the small gulf of your arms

and know heaven in my soul.

I want to feel your warm skin pressed

against mine and breathe together in time.

 

And when I’m looking off into forever,

your adoring kisses at my neck

will to my senses bring me back.

With just a look you heal me—

you love me, and I am made whole.

 

So for this, while I live,

while we have this briefest encounter in time without end,

while the fire burns still within our souls,

and before the smoldering turns cold,

I will look in your eyes at this moment in time

and let myself be loved by you again and again.

 

Shoshana Wolfington


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Thank You, But No

13173662_10206536769525587_8058892534481363848_nI am learning I can say no.

It’s not always easy when you’re learning,

when the birthing of your own worthiness

is still so fresh with pain.

 

You have to keep saying no loud enough until you hear yourself.

 

I am learning to stand by my no’s, by what nourishes my own soul—

by the NO that has my back, knows best what is for me and what is not.

I am learning it’s okay to be quiet when there is nothing more to say,

when I have already spoken,

when I have paid careful attention, said what I mean

and mean what I say.

 

Because another discounts my no,

does not mean that I don’t count.

Both of us in the same classroom as I learn to stand by what I have said

and they learn to hear my no.

 

And just a single no can stand on its own—

just a simple thank you, but no—or because I said so.

I am learning it’s quite okay to have momentary confusion or

temptation to say yes without actually doing so.

It’s okay to sit with it for however long it takes until the thing is done.

Even though it hurts for a while, even though those old feelings rise up,

I know everyone is hurt

when I say yes but mean no.

 

Shoshana Wolfington

 


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Reckoning with Spring

ReckoningWithSpring3I’m leaving.

While all over town cherry blossoms

are in a pink uprising—stampeding the senses

of unsuspecting ones merely trying to mind their own business.

And dogwoods are holding on to their fat little white fists, shaking

them in the wind at anyone who might notice them.

Everything says stay, don’t go and

a thousand heavy sighs escape me at every

up and coming branch that tries to halt me from my

appointed task—a final reckoning with what it will cost to leave.

Goodbye sweet trees.

Goodbye greening leaves.

Goodbye the whistling chorus out my kitchen window

—the geese coming home.

It’s not that I’m not gone forever—

just long enough to miss this spring and all its terrible beauty.

I’m already full of melancholy

and I’m not even gone.

© 2015  ~  Shoshana Wolfington


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The Way of Angels

forest-river-646x433
  I am a river sluicing past canyon walls,

  splashing at the bends before 

  settling down again.

  Little whitecaps belie the deep undertow

 of quiet and knowing repose

  rushing through my belly below.

And following a predestined path set before

over a million years and more,

I do not hammer or drive into the stone 

at my side—it is with instinctive ease

that I bend and twist and glide.

I have no need to resist what lies ahead

as I wash on by.

Let the howling winds chip away the stone,

let the rain drive a wider channel—

 I am going the way of angels.

 

© 1997 Shoshana Wolfington