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  • Writer's pictureLinda Beatrice Brown

Grace Comes

Grace comes, gorgeous and silent

working its mystery in spite of our struggle, our dread,

our bewilderment, our wailing, our fear.

The orchid, drinking Light for the joy of it,

shines it mute beauty

like a found jewel in the mud,

A silver note in the dark,

Light stored in the orchid’s buds,

opening now to a spectrum, a prism.

Grace comes in this moment of belief within disbelief,

of hope within pain.

Grace comes with the offering of the heart cave.

There is something in the giving in to what is there,

some mysterious alchemy in finally saying, “I give”,

Like the children we were,

giving in, to be set free from our games.

Light stored in the orchid’s buds,

opening now, to the beauty within,

the children of the pain, opening now, revealing now.

Nothing comes from nothing.

Grace comes, giving voice to the flower, daring us to break open,

release the Light,

and show our streaming colors.

© Linda Beatrice Brown

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