Blessings
I create blessings in my head
I send them to my hands
and stroke them into your hair
I tell you nothing of them
for you will look at me
with your wry smile
and tell me I am way too optimistic
This cosmic dust of pure intention
will soothe the disappointments
and form the yeast that rises into joyI have sent these consecrations ahead
they rest on a cushion
in a window-seat waiting to warm you
I have sent blessings ahead
as voices in the air,
voices that you will hear
when the grit of disillusions
have dulled your hearing
I have sent them ahead
as a cryptic treasure map
where ‘x’ marks the spot
where you will find your gratitude
I have left candles on the windowsill
to guide you
hoping you will find
small hampers of happinessBlessings sometimes come
disguised as disappointmentsOnly much later when they
are fully unwrapped and
stoically borne
do we know they were gifts
© Tanya Southey
#52words52weeks
