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Tangled

January 29, 2014 by paula 2 Comments

IMG_0470

Surrender clouds my path

Encrusted in tight, writhing vines.

They tamp me down—trip me with their tangled hands, rip me with those wretched nails.

Filed Under: Poetry

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Joy

…We are all born with it–Joy. We exude enough of it as children to fill all the adult hearts in any room. We’ve no need to be taught how to smile on a sunny Saturday morning, dance in muddy spring puddles, delight as a butterfly alights on our noses. Joy is our birthright–our spiritual birthmark.

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