Circles of Impact

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Every presence leaves a wake, choose how yours will move the water.”


The lake was still, yet even stillness remembers.
One small gesture, a pebble, a word, a glance,
and the surface shifts.
Circles form quietly,
but they travel farther than the eye can follow.

We forget how far our presence carries.
How even silence has weight.
How even waiting is an act of impact.
The ripples do not ask our permission,
they move outward,
touching natures gifts, brushing sand,
until they quietly settle away from
where they began.

This is the legacy of every moment,
to ripple into places unseen but never gone.
To leave behind a pattern that lingers
long after the stone leaves its impression.

So we are asked,
What do we place into the water?
Do we drop fear like a heavy stone,
or do we let kindness fall softly,
so the circles carry healing instead of harm?

To wait before speaking
is not weakness,
it is remembering that our words will travel,
that the echo will belong to more than us.
Every ripple teaches us,
we are always shaping something,
seen or unseen,
known or unknown.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


And as the last circle stretched toward the farthest shore, I felt the truth of it, the wait itself is part of the impact, and tomorrow will reveal how far it can reach.

The Guest of Stillness

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Every silence asks what you will do with it.”


The evening gathered gently, as if the air itself wanted to sit down beside me. There was no rush of voices, no urgency of sound, only a pause that stretched long enough for me to notice my own heartbeat.

Stillness often arrives uninvited, yet it is never without purpose. It presses on the corners we overlook, draws us toward what we would rather set aside. It doesn’t demand an answer, only presence. To stay with it long enough to learn what it is showing.

In that pause, I realized stillness is not empty. It carries questions:
What needs my attention?
What needs to be left in peace?
What requires change?
What asks me to wait?

And deeper still, it asks: When the time comes to speak, what will my presence leave behind?

Our impact is not only in words but in the silence that shapes them, in the choices that decide whether we react or respond. Stillness reminds us: we are responsible for the wake we create, even when we believe we are standing still.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


And in the quiet that followed, I felt it, the weight of choice. Tomorrow would not ask me to fill the silence, but to honor it, and to let my answer carry intentions.

Lanterns In the Dark

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Some carry light without knowing its impact; others dim their own light, before it even has the chance to shine.”


Lanterns drift across the water,
their reflections bending with the ripples.
Each light carries a memory,
a secret folded into flame.

Some shine steady,
guiding without question.
Some flicker,
resisting the wind.
And some disappear
into the night
before anyone notices they were ever there.

But one lantern moves without a hand,
its glow untouched by flame or oil,
as if it belongs, solely to the heart itself,
a reminder that not all light
comes from what is held in the hand,

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


When that lantern passed, noone but me saw it, noone but me felt it, but the ripples on the water showed it was there and I knew its message.

Echoes Between the Veils

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Every ending is already becoming something else.”

The week leaves its trace,
not sharp but lingering,
like ripples spreading long after the stone is gone.
Whispers that once hid themselves
rose to the surface,
shivering through the silence
until shadows stretched further than I thought they could reach.

Every veil that lifted only showed another.
Smoke curled in places where no fire should burn.
Even the door breathed,
as if the weight of secrets
was too much for its frame to hold alone.

None of it stood apart.
The whispers belonged to the shadows.
The smoke belonged to the veils.
The breath belonged to the door.
And together they drew us here,
to this place where return is no longer possible,
because something in us has already stepped forward.

What remains is not just story and poetry,
but echoes,
the echo of silence that refuses to stay quiet,
the echo of stillness that is never truly still,
the echo of truth pressing closer,
asking to be felt,
to be honored,
to be carried.

So we pause here,
not with answers,
but with wonder.
Perhaps what waits beyond the veil
isn’t a shadow or a smoke trail,
but the weight of emotion itself,
the kind that asks nothing but presence.

And maybe the question is not what will step forward first,
but how we will meet it when it does.

—Kerri-Elizabeth—


And as the cove settles into its quiet reflection, something stirs beneath the surface, soft but undeniable, as if the season itself has begun to breathe differently.

The Unexpected Crossing

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

“Chance meetings are not chance at all, they are threads we’re meant to see.“

”The air was sharp with cedar and salt as I stepped into the small island store. The history of presence in the floors carried every footstep, every shift of weight, like a memory refusing to fade. My hand reached for a vase on the shelf, next to me, a reflection in the glass door, soft, startling and familiar.

Our eyes met. A smile formed, but it felt both familiar and unfamiliar, as if it belonged to another time. An emotion of familiarity exchanged, light yet unforgettable, the silence beneath spoke even louder. Silence that carried something unfinished, something that asked to be noticed.

Outside, gulls cried over the cove while the sky bent toward dusk. We parted ways in direction, but not in weight. I walked on, carrying the sense that the path was not finished with us yet.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


That night, footsteps crossed the dock in steady rhythm, pressing the wood as if retracing the very moment I had tried to leave behind.


Confetti in the Storm

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

“Beauty does not erase the storm, it scatters through it, refusing to be silenced.”

The storm came without warning, breaking through the quiet that had settled over the week. Branches bent, rain lashed the windows, the air electric with change. Yet even in the chaos, there was color, leaves torn from the trees swirled like confetti, fragments of beauty scattered through the violence of wind.

It was a reminder that storms do not arrive only to destroy. They strip away, they reveal, they scatter what might otherwise remain hidden. And sometimes, within the upheaval, there is a defiant beauty, a reminder that even in the fiercest moments, life finds a way to shimmer.

The storm ended, as they always do, but the ground was littered with fragments, evidence that something had passed through, leaving both ruin and radiance in its wake.

Confetti falls through raging skies,

a storm where hidden beauty lies.

The winds may tear, the rains may break,

yet colors rise and awake.

No silence steals, no shadow wins,

the storm reveals what still begins.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

And as the storm’s last echo faded, one truth lingered, what it revealed cannot be gathered back again.

The Chair at the Edge

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

“Even the empty chair listens, holding the weight of what’s been left unsaid.”

At the edge of the lawn, a chair sat untouched. Its presence was simple, but it carried more than wood and fabric. Empty seats are never empty, they hold the memory of voices, the press of conversations unfinished, the echoes of what may have been spoken but wasn’t.

In the cooling air, the chair became a witness. Every rustle of leaves, every faint sound drifting across the cove seemed to lean toward it, as if the silence itself demanded to be heard. The absence of someone there was louder than any gathering could have been.

The chair waited, steady at the edge, holding a space that could not be ignored.

An empty chair is never bare,

it holds the weight of those not there.

It gathers whispers, keeps the sound,

of words that never left the ground.

It waits in silence, still, contained,

with stories that linger and remain.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

And in the waiting, the chair seemed to promise, what is unsaid will one day return, and it will not be as quiet.

Through the Veil of Stillness

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

“Stillness is not absence, it is the veil through which the unseen speaks.”

The stillness of the season held a weight of its own. It wasn’t silence, not really, it was layered, veiled, filled with the press of what waited just beyond sight. Every pause felt like a curtain, and behind it, something breathed.

Walking through the forest, the quiet seemed to listen back. The crunch of leaves, the shift of wind, the sudden chill in the air, all reminders that stillness can carry more than noise ever could. The veil was thin here, between the seen and the unseen, between the everyday and the echo that refused to fade.

To live inside this season was to know that quiet is never empty, it is a message, waiting to be understood.

The veil of stillness bends and sways,

a breath that hides in quiet ways.

Not gone, not lost, but close, concealed,

in silence truths are most revealed.

Step with care, the air will keep,

the echoes waking from their sleep.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

And just when the veil seemed steady, it trembled, as though something on the other side had reached back.

A Quiet Refrain

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

“Some truths do not shout, they return softly, again and again, until they are heard.”

The season had grown quieter, but silence was never truly empty. It carried a refrain, repeating in unexpected ways, through a name overheard in passing, a story unfolding in a stranger’s voice, a meeting that seemed too precise to be coincidence.

The echoes no longer came from loud gatherings; they rose instead from subtler places. The forest trail, where a branch broke at the exact moment a thought arrived. The phone ringing with news that linked one life to another in ways no one could have planned. The refrain was not a song, it was a persistence, a reminder that some truths will keep circling back until we finally face them.

Every pause seemed to hum with what wasn’t said. In the quiet, the refrain was louder than ever.

Softly it comes, again, again,

a whisper threading through the plain.

No shout, no cry, no storm to send,

just truth repeating without end.

What will not fade returns in kind,

a quiet refrain that bends the mind.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

And as the refrain lingered in the air, the question grew, was it just an awareness or an invitation to listen more closely?

The Tide Left Behind

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

“What recedes does not vanish, it lingers in the sand, waiting to be found again.”

The tide had pulled back, leaving traces scattered across the shore. A broken shell, a tangled string of weeds, footprints pressed into damp sand, evidence that nothing ever truly disappears. What drifts away always leaves its mark, quiet but undeniable.

In the stillness of the season’s change, the tide seemed to mirror the way life pressed its echoes into unexpected places. A stranger’s story at a shop, a familiar voice on the phone, the uncanny way paths cross where they shouldn’t. Just as the water recedes, only to rise again, the people and moments we think have gone often return, different, altered, yet still carrying the imprint of before.

The tide left behind more than shells and silt. It left questions, reminders, and the uneasy knowing that what has gone out will always, in some way, come back in.

The water retreats, but it does not erase,

it leaves its memory upon the face

of stones and sand, of whispered ground,

where every echo waits to be found.

The tide withdraws with expression

what drifts away, leaves an impression.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

And as the tide whispered its return, it was clear, what comes back does not arrive the same.