when we speak our stories

when we speak our stories
we can wear them for awhile
without becoming them
for an eternity

when we give a voice to our pain
we can step past their hold
as they drift past-- common weeds--
our often blurred vision
in a harrowing rain

how spirit loves to dance
beyond what happened-- beyond
what she said, what he did-
what went down--no blame

in the world of imperfection
a perfect moment grows
wild flowers sigh
gently within

those souls who walk
lightly in the wake of
gushing waterfalls

for to have come this far
the angels know who we are
and are applauding us

upfront in gales of laughter
and with a certain peacefulness
from that distant star

~kate lamberg (c) '14