Leaping with fresh waters, listening to the invisible, mystical, whimsical, music in my head ~your Poet Krissy
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To the blogs on WordPress that always inspire me , make laugh, give me virtual- hugs, 💙💙💙🤘🏾✨
Maren @ https://giftsinopenhands.wordpress.com/
Kym @ https://frombehindthepen.wordpress.com/
Michele Lee @ https://myinspiredlife.org/
Ellie @ https://elliethompson.uk/
TrE @ https://acorneredgurl.com/
Lori @ https://praypower4today.wordpress.com/
Stephanie @ https://serendippity.home.blog/
K.E. Garland @ https://kwoted.wordpress.com/
Grace @ https://graceofthesun.com/
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My sisters write healings’ til there is only sacred breath, she heals as writes, she heals as she plays, she heals as she prays, she heals as she chants, she heals as she sings, she heals as she dances through the words she speaks, of former wounds and making of these wounds “beauty for mapping”.
Sifting and shifting higher worthiness, all the ways of her own. In worthiness, she is worthy to be blessed, and worthy to bless others.
She is worthy of love. Worthy of loving herself, worthy of her own imperfections. Worthy of holding the high watch of her own peace. Worthy of sacred space & sacred ritual. Worthy to be forgiven & worthy to forgive.
In that of what we are healing-art transformed, for some of us, the most brutal and teeth cutting existence through the fluidity of colorless liquid of miracles, flowing out of our bodies, blood like water, to watch our souls pounding in cadence, “oh’ how, we must sing the Lord’s song in a strange land”~ your poet Krissy Mosley ©2022
Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com -
I am surrendered moments.
I am surrendered stillness
I am surrendered silence.
I am surrendered spirit.
I am surrendered growth.
I am surrendered truth.
I am surrendered grace.
I am surrendered faith.
I am surrendered hope.
I am surrendered presence.
I am surrendered joy.
I am surrendered peace.
I am surrendered love.
I am surrendered freedom.
Who am I? I am me.
~your Poet Krissy Mosley ©2023
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Affectionately calling my soul’s shadow back to me, dearly beloved, the war of love, is not the battle of breads of those who have no crumbs,
but, the war of love is softly singing every note wrong, apologizing when you can’t hear the melody of justice,
the war of love, is softly sitting at the edge of life, showing up for that last ride on the merry go round, even when you know love may never make it home,
you pray love will carry love home, & you pray, that your love, will be enough… ~poet Krissy Mosley©2023
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I’ve struggled to write this for quite a while. It’s probably why, in my dreams, something seems to take the power of my voice. So much so , I find myself, clenching my throat, clawing at the nape of my neck, finding my voice,
To be continued….
Krissy Mosley Ministries 