Winter holds the breath of me
winter holds the breath,
of me-
I fold myself tight,
and hold my waiting-
so close,
I forget to move-
or bend,
or reach-
I collapse in the noise,
of my breaking-
again, I just sit still,
as if change-
will not stop with me,
but in my knowing,
impermanence is-
never ending,
what wakes my soul, 
to lean into my truth-
to rise from my falling,
to breath my words-
that bring me,
soothing peace.
when winter’s cold,
has released my soul-
I hold the warmth,
of lovingkindness-
that strengthens,
my true self to be-
more and more,
my true me.
Heart’s Calling
By Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg © 
Painting by: Brad Haymond
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