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The Lenten Rose

I feel your presence this misty morning - in the air I breathe, as it fills my being

with your love and light.

I see it illumine my aura, as it moves through me, washing me clean of my hatred

and judgments.

I feel and hear your gentle kiss on the surface of my skin, as an ever-so-faint

fluttering... a beautiful reminder of this body of mine and its resplendent aliveness.

I know you as the flicker of the candle that lights my words in the early dawn's

lambent light, bringing them out of hiding and into the ether, onto the paper –

these parts of me that are known by only my Beloved.

I know your presence by the breeze and the music you bring to the wind chimes

as you call my name. I call out to you, sometimes as an invitation; other times,

as a plea so that I may live my life as Claire, take on her mantle; for the sake,

of love, of healing self and this lonely planet spinning as it is through space and time.

Oh, Holy Spirit, there are so many ways I know you. You are the fragrance of

morning and in the face of the Lenten rose as it sprouts and blooms up through

the cold soil of winter.

I know you as sound and scent, touch and taste. I feel you, Oh Holy Spirit, as

cellular. Universal. And yet oh-so particular.

I feel you pierce my heart with this love divine and surrender to your mysterious


I am, and can but be, an offering.



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