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And perhaps what made her beautiful was not her appearance…..



And perhaps what made her beautiful was not her appearance or what she achieved , but in her love and in her courage, and her audacity to believe: no matter the darkness around her, light ran bright within her, and that was the way she came alive, and it showed up in everything. ❤️☀










Text & image source: Mitra Shahidi https://www.facebook.com/mitra.shahidi.3


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A woman in harmony with her spirit….











Source: Contemplative Monk
https://www.facebook.com/ContemplativeMonk/

The Hands Of A Warrior

Purple veins strain against the skin.
Pale, translucent, paper thin.
Skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes,
Brown spots from years that she can’t erase.

Now wrinkled and fragile, weak and sore,
So many things she can’t do anymore.
Some days she feels she’s been betrayed
By the cruelty of her advancing age.

She rubs her hands to ease the ache
And recalls the life they helped to make.
She looks at them and feels the loss,
Living a life bears a very high cost.

These hands that held her children near,
That gently dried their salty tears.
Hands that held her husband’s tight,
That never let go against the fight.

Miraculous hands that protected and soothed.
Hands, they conveyed her every mood.
Hands so strong they could carry the weight,
That would never give up and never forsake.

Those hands that took little but always gave,
Hands that applauded each achievement made.
Those soft, sweet hands that gently cared,
For those sick or lost in dark despair.

Hands that fussed and fumbled that day
Her husband gave their daughter away.
Those hands holding tight as he slowly died,
Caressing his brow as she stood by his side.

Hands that rocked her grandson to sleep,
That gladly took over when others grew weak.
Hands that once held everyone that she loved,
And prayed for strength to our God above.

Hands that were always so willing to give,
Hands that reveal a life fully lived.
Small, feeble hands, now empty and cold,
These hands that each day will keep growing old.

These hands she now tends to hide away,
These hands that at times make her feel ashamed.
Grotesque and useless in her eyes,
They rest in her lap as she quietly cries.

But I see the hands of a hero so true,
A woman who survived what this life put her through.
A woman whose heart still shimmers like gold,
With the hands of a warrior who made her mark on this world.

More By Pat A. Fleming


Artist Mary Jane Q Cross

Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook
https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/

~ Mother ~





~ Mother ~
.
If I could give you diamonds
for each tear you cried for me.
if I could five you sapphires
for each truth you’ve helped me see.
If I could give you rubies
for the heartache that you’ve known
If I could give you pearls
for the wisdom that you’ve shown.
Then you’ll have a treasure, mother,
that would mount up to the skies
That would almost match
the sparkle in your kind and loving eyes.
But I have no pearls, no diamonds,
As I’m sure you’re well aware
So I’ll give you gifts more precious
My devotion, love and care. ♥♥♥
.
Unknown










Text & image credit: Johanna von Bernus @ The Celestial Sanctum
https://www.facebook.com/groups/celestialsanctum/

#FridayFantasy . . . . She always had that about her,






“She always had that about her, that look of otherness,
of eyes that see things much too far,
and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.”

~Joanne Harris, The Girl with No Shadow











Photo: http://weheartit.com/entry/12732661
Text & image source: Between the Realms https://www.facebook.com/BetweenTheRealms/

#InternationalWomensDay





“Give us that grand word ‘woman’ once again, and let’s have done with ‘lady’;
one’s a term full of fine force, strong, beautiful, and firm, fit for the noblest use
of tongue or pen; and one’s a word for lackeys.”

~Ella Wheeler Wilcox
@: https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/ella_wheeler_wilcox










Photo source: Return To Eden https://www.facebook.com/SpiritualTruths/