The light pools on the ground beneath the pine trees.

 

Fog moves quickly, sudden.

I can feel its depths, wonder where the bottom is. The top?

It is easy to get lost in.

I reach my fingers up into the sky, there is no end in sight.

The air is thick, dense. I wonder if one can actually breathe this…my chest starts to ache.

The snow is falling so gentle from the dark sky, we can’t even feel it on our faces.

We capture crystals on our fingers, try to count the prism facets before it melts over us.

Beauty can be hard to hold.

We visited a friend yesterday and as we walked down her driveway we watched a garage collapse. The tiny bits of snow building into something too heavy to be held up by flimsy structures.

And I wonder, how many miniscule pieces of beauty does it take for us to crush something?

Like oppression for example. Or injustice.

I don’t know. But I think I want to find out.

 

I think, perhaps, that might be the point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Linking this post with the Imperfect Prose community…Hi friends!

This post partially inspired by Shane Claibornes beautiful, inspiring, life-giving HOPES for 2013. LOVE THIS. 

 

And friends…PURSUIT JUSTICE is coming…JOIN US!