When the Sacred Path Opens

The old people said
a life is not measured
by how far it travels,
but by how softly it enters
the house of the spirit.

Some burdens come to us
wearing the weight of winter,
yet they teach the hands
to carry warmth
without asking to be praised.

There is a road
only the humble can see,
where fear lowers its head
and the heart learns
to walk beside power.

Do not rush the blessing.
Even thunder waits
before it gives its voice
back to the sky.

So I keep my prayer simple:
may I honor what is strong,
protect what is gentle,
and leave behind
a trail the children can trust.

🎨Artist and storyteller: Dorothy Vera

opensenseme