May the light of your soul guide you.
May the light of your soul bless the work
You do with the secret love and warmth of your heart.
May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.
May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light and renewal to those
Who work with you and to those who see and receive your work.
May your work never weary you.
May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration and excitement.
May you be present in what you do.
May you never become lost in the bland absences.
May the day never burden you.
May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your new day with dreams,
Possibilities and promises.
May evening find you gracious and fulfilled.
May you go into the night blessed, sheltered and protected.
May your soul calm, console and renew you.

John O’Donohue

A Holiday Carol
Abby Bernal

there is a voice within us all that if we listen…long enough…hard enough….
we will hear….
it comes from the softness…within our soul….
and when I close my eyes and imagine the sound…it feels like a silk sheet sliding though my fingers….
it is a whisper…that gives us the strength to move forward through a loud cry….
it is a guide…that gives us sight…to navigate in the darkness….
and if we all listen long enough…we will hear each others’ voices when our room is silent….
if we all listen long enough…we can quench each others’ thirst with the taste of a lingering melody….
and this holiday season…if we allow ourselves to listen….
long enough….
hard enough….
we will hear the sound that begins as a whisper…grow into a song….
and collectively our inner voice…will carol….

From Abigail (Artbook Bindery, 2009), ©Abby Bernal.

Previously posted on Poetry Daily

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.


[excerpt from ‘When Death Comes’ by Mary Oliver]