Unspoken thoughts
Cloud my mind,
Not the Hosanna
Glory-be-to-God kind
of words that make
my heart sing -
burdenson words,
fear, failure, if only
or need to.
I hold shadows
up to the light,
and recall the way
I wish it had been,
the pain of impossible 
past or unlived future.
I do not store up
hurt of anger,
but the times 
I “should have”
collect like stones.
When the weight
becomes burdensome
I breathe deep,
stretch my taut body,
murmur a mantra,
note what waves
creation stirs-
bird song, 
dance of trees,
flowering flashes of color,
reminders of  
 divine presence.
I scatter my thoughts
with paper and pen,
and then give thanks.