When Love Takes You In

When love takes you inBunny-Fawn12752_1140864932333_1548729850_30290583_5059880_n
you feel appreciated for just being your self.

When love takes you in
you don’t have to jump through hoops,
or project any images. Read more

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My Response to The Beloved’s Call

You are the perfume on my skin.Sunset_FL_orange BEsposito
You are the stars in my night’s sky.
You are the fallen leaves that crunch beneath my feet.
You are the crimson and gold and fuscia in the sunset.
You are the sweet fragrance spraying from the ocean’s waves.
You are the softness of a kitten’s fur.
You are the ache in the pit of my stomach for my Lover.

You teach me.
You console me.
How delightful you are to me in all your ways.

Author: Benita A. Esposito
10/5/2004.
Copyright 2004, all right reserved.The Esposito Institute, Inc.

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The Beloved’s Call

I’ve been waiting for you for lifetimes to come to me.dreamstimefree_4095542 SML
I’ve watched you in pain and suffering, in agony.

Let me show you exquisite ecstasy.
Let me lift you to heights unknown.
Fly with me into new realities.
Come to me. Read more

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Grief and Comfort

Feel me now enfolding you in Love,
Wrapping you in a soft warm comforter,
Holding you close, and closer yet
With every tear you cry.

You are my beloved daughter.
No matter where you go,
Or what decisions you make,
I will always love you and adore you.

I am always here for you, always.

Author: Benita A. Esposito
Copyright 2011, All rights reserved. The Esposito Institute, Inc.

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When Gratitude Comes to Dinner

When Gratitude comes to dinner
She wears a purple feather in her hair
Reminding her to be appreciative.
She doesn’t want to take life for granted,
But she knows she does some times.

She watches for the tiny little ways she closes her heart.
It’s so easy to get caught up in the daily tasks of living.
It’s so easy to believe that a stranger intrudes upon her time.

Gratitude remembers when Darkness surrounded her
For a very, very long time,
Month after month.

Encompassed like a gray shroud, thick gauzy tentacles
wrapped around her like a mummy,
bound tight with no light.

And then one cool Spring day
Kindness touched her.
As she walked across a lonely parking lot,
a small item slipped from her hand and fell to the ground.
A stranger walking toward her smiled and offered,
“Oh, let me get that for you.”
He stooped, picked it up,
and placed it in her hand,
and then walked on without another word.

The dark shroud lifted as her eyes opened wide in surprise.

His kindness warmed her sad heart, grown cold from the loneliness of her Winter.

For when Darkness imprisons us for a long, long time
It is then that we become truly grateful
for the little gestures of love
that we would have otherwise taken for granted.

 

Author: Benita A. Esposito, MA, LPC, LCMHC

If you would like help to find your way out of the darkness, it’s easy to receive help with Online Therapy. Please complete the Contact Page for a complimentary 10-minute Discovery Call to see if we are a good fit.

Copyright 2011, All rights reserved. The Esposito Institute, Inc.

 

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Feeling Safe

Feeling safe, secure, calm and quiet.

Even in the midst of trials and confusion,

The memories of your smiling eyes

And your gentle touch

Soothe my troubled mind.

Perhaps it is unwise to want you and enjoy you so much.

Somehow, though, I know that you are here to enrich my life

And I only hope that I am doing the same for you.

All the hours that we have held each other close,

Sharing through soft gazes

The loving appreciation of each other’s bodies and souls

Help me feel safe, secure, calm and quiet.

 

Benita A. Esposito

1976

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When Gratitude is Difficult

I sit perched upon my mountain high, surveying the land below.
How peaceful, how serene.
I love it so.

As I ponder the meaning of Thanksgiving,
I wonder, “What does it really mean to be grateful?”
What is the Heart of gratitude?
When am I most compelled to reach into the deepest part of myself and there, too, find gratitude?

It is easy in times when everything flows smoothly.
And that is wonderful, indeed.

But even more, to be grateful for the hard times,
That is when gratitude is most difficult.

Can I find the gifts in the sorrow?
How can I be thankful for a thousand losses?
All the times I felt unloved.
All the times I tried so hard, and success eluded me.
All the times I thought I was going in the right direction
And one more time, I arrived at the end of a road where the sign read, “Dead End.”

How can I be grateful for that?

I look deeper inside, and deeper yet still
I wind my way through the gauzy maze.

Home.
What is Home?

My Home, my true Home, lies in the heart of The Beloved.
He reminds me that I am beautiful in his eyes.
He holds me when I am scared.
He encourages me when I am shy.
He lavishes me with gifts of the spirit.
He brings me challenges so big that I either sink or soar.
He connects me with people who have hearts of gold
And sorrows all of their own.
He gives me opportunities to be of service.
He reminds me that receiving requires the strength to be vulnerable.
He holds me back when I’m eager to dive in when He knows the water is too rough.

Sometimes I get so frustrated with Him because I have mind of my own.
He cautions me. He disciplines me. I stamp my feet.
He makes me do my homework long past the days when school should have been over.

Sometimes, I am so weary.
Sometimes, I am worn out.
Sometimes, I give up.
And then I look deeper
And deeper yet still,
And I find Him once again, my Beloved, holding out his arms to me
Inviting Intimacy.

Intimacy with my Beloved.
The Beloved.
My one true Beloved when all around me squalls in tempest.

I turn to Him,
And He to me,
And we gaze into each other’s eyes,
one to the other,
And all the world falls away.
All the striving and stress.
All the worries and fears.
All the goals and aspirations that define me
Melt away like butter sliding off a hot knife.

All alone with my Beloved
And He with me.
Inside.
Inside, He awaits for me
All the time
Waiting, waiting, and watching
Patiently,
For me to find my way Home once again.

My Beloved.
My best friend.
Jesus.

Benita A. Esposito, MA, LPC
11/22/12

Background
This prose poem sprang forth after listening to the poet Dana Gioia interviewed on National Public Radio, Asheville, NC on Thanksgiving morning 2012.  Paraphrasing, Mr. Gioia said, “If you can accept your sorrows, they can become your gifts.  Find the gifts hidden in the sorrows.”

For the last few days, I had been contemplating sending a special mailing on Thanksgiving Day.  I wanted to write on this very same theme, and I just happened to turn on the radio at the precise time of this interview. That’s how the Holy Spirit works.

I love hearing and reading others poems, and I love writing and reading my own.  I don’t have confidence in my skill as a poet although I’ve written poetry for 30+ years.  Most of the time, when I contemplate writing poetry, the inner critic’s voice scolds me, “You can’t write. It’s won’t turn out well.  You can’t do this, so don’t bother.”  After listening to this litany again today, I almost started a google search to find someone else’s poem to share with my friends on Thanksgiving Day. But another inner voice coaxed me, “Just sit and write. You can do this. See what comes out.” So I sat and wrote, and line after line flowed just like it usually does when I stop my busyness long enough to listen. With a little editing, this beautiful gift came into full living color to bless us today, and for many years to come. This is the kind of writing, the mutual creation of The Holy Spirit and Benita Esposito in intimate partnership, that I love the most.

God bless you and your family on this Thanksgiving Day and all year long.

Special thanks to:

(1) Dana Gioia for his inspiration this morning on National Public Radio.  Visit http://www.danagioia.net/poems/

(2) Father John Rice, my favorite spiritual teacher who encourages me to develop a relationship with Jesus as Intimate Friend. Thank you, John.

Copyright 2012. All rights reserved. The Esposito Institute, Inc.

For permission to reprint, please use the contact page at www.Flourishing-Lives.com

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