Caught between a rock and a hard place, there is no paradise to which I can run, no tranquil valley, no solitary sanctuary, no redwood cathedral, no primal pounding shore.

Here is my retreat, here is my hiding place: adopting a Susanna pose, I fall into psalms somewhere between crying out and lying down. Jagged I come, frayed, unravelled, tattered, weary and worn. A gentle rhythm sways me like a young child in mother’s arms. Slowly colour sneaks back into the picture, the focus sharpens and harmonies gently roll over me. Sharp edges are made smooth, rent places are made new, crooked made straight, the low are exalted. And I breathe, really breathe again.

Though the temporal lives
in chaos, my soul dwells in
the house of the Lord.

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Monday Toni hosted Haibun Monday at dVerse. Β We were to write a one to two paragraph compact haibun describing an activity we use to relax ourselves and then use the haiku at the end to share our rest.

It has taken me until today to write this (and I am still not satisfied), because this week has been the opposite of restful. But while the exterior is chaotic, the interior is at peace. πŸ™‚

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