The fresh smell of grace

Why do you stay in prison

When the door is so wide open?”

― Rumi, The Essential Rumi

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There is a place called “peace”

there is a place called “love”

somewhere deep within

in that place where the seed of the sacred

lives

and breathes divine breath

all that I seek

is present

and yet I dwell in a place

where I wallow

in the muck of fear

and disillusionment

I am like that crazy mare

who hangs around in

deep manure next to the barn

hope for a bit of hay

or an alfalfa treat

while behind her

the gate lies open

and green grass beckons

time to smell the grass

 or rather

the fresh smell of grace

it beckons