Who Reaches for Your Hand?

What bravado it takes to step

from the blue boat of dreams

onto the churning surface of  the day,

to walk even an hour on this wild water.

-wrensong

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About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, Poetry, The River. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Who Reaches for Your Hand?

  1. tmhHoover says:

    How strong I feel knowing that every step is one of courage. Wonderful words.

  2. As always, your lines are beautiful. 🙂

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