I wake, and the world is softer for it—
the air, a kind of kindness.
The sun doesn’t rise, it reaches,
as if to touch the pulse
of something tender that hums
beneath my ribs.
To live from love
is to walk barefoot through the day,
feeling the earth forgive each step.
It’s to see the stranger’s eyes
and recognize a long-lost home,
to speak not to be heard,
but to let warmth travel outward.
Love is not a flame—it’s the light
that teaches the flame to dance.
It is not what we keep,
but what keeps us.
So I breathe it in,
again and again,
until even my bones remember—
the only way to live
is to let love do the living.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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This is absolutely breathtaking, Brenda. Your poem doesn’t just describe love; it feels like love, softening the reader’s world from the very first line. “The sun doesn’t rise, it reaches” – what a profound and beautiful way to capture a morning shaped by grace.
The entire second stanza is a masterpiece, but “to walk barefoot through the day, feeling the earth forgive each step” is a line I will carry with me. It speaks to such a deep, gentle, and unburdened way of being.
And the final lines, “until even my bones remember— the only way to live is to let love do the living,” feel like a truth we all know but so often forget. Thank you for this stunning and deeply moving reminder. Your words are a gift.