Who would I be without my stories?
Just a woman, fingers dancing on keys,
sitting here, breathing, at peace.
My body danced this evening
and now it is spent.
My heart sang and laughed.
My hands painted and drew
and mothered and colored today.
Without my stories
this day was utter paradise.
Please Divine Spirit,
let me stay attuned to what is real,
that I may live in this one moment
grateful for what is.