All these years, we have lived With lies as light as thistledown In our minds. Memories of those times We broke with love Bringing a sad remembrance. Turning sunshine to frost In an instant.
These are the memories We want to polish up. The ones that make us sad, Uncomfortable, uneasy. Make them more forgiving, Sweeter, perhaps, As if they had never happened In the way we remember.
But we know enough to understand No good ever came Of turning memories into lies, No matter how much We may want to lie or be lied to.
In that dark time, then, When we can no longer find Forgiveness in ourselves, When thistledown lies Weigh heavy upon us, Offer them up.
Offer up those memories, Just as they are. Offer up those times We have not loved. Offer them all up, Trusting and safe in our trust That Love itself Will take each sorry heart, Turn bitter frost to sunshine.
The wise woman rises early, Stepping into clean, fresh clothes, Pulling on her lovely crease-free trousers, Her unwrinkled Tee clinging neatly to her shoulders, Her shoes so sparkling clean and pretty, Even the flowers admire them.
‘Bye!’ calls the wise woman, As she goes singing on her way, Everyone making room for her.
The tired woman rises far too late, That extra five minutes somehow getting away from her. And look! The clothes fairy hasn’t been! So she wears crumpled Tee and wrinkled trousers. Her shoes so dusty and dull Even the flowers try to hide them.
No ‘Bye!’ from this tired woman, As she goes yawning on her way.
But the wise woman makes room for her, For tired tomorrow, wise today.