twelve steps home

The only job I truly have

is to keep

coming home.


In the center

of my being, is a tiny thread of gold,

an eternal cord

into the heart of spring.

as simple as

the snowflake,

a tear, then mist.

we are each

a drop of water

falling into

this sacred sanctuary of life


onto the child’s tongue,

through a sister’s eye,

feeding the forest roots at dawn.


The trunk

the leaves

reach like veins of a lung

towards the core of the sun.

as melting snow transforms

a crystal into waking breath,

from mist

on the face

of a lake

into sacred sky.


As your entire life

comes home.

as your entire life


with Love.