Life these days

Well, life these days is not always stable, emotionally  

 It goes along in quite an equitable fashion for sometimes a week or so,
 but then one morning you waken, and the birds sing,
but there is nobody to share their song with,

 or the morning sun shines splendidly,

just catching the mountain top visible from the bedroom window,

and there is nobody to whisper to,

 'are you awake - look, look at the light on the mountain' - and loneliness sets in!!!

Each day I receive a posting of random poetry from 'A Year of Being Here" 

 

This morning, from Linda Back McKay, is a poem entitled 'On the Meaning of'

and oh, it touched me in that tender spot that most times I keep hidden away,

 and that, if truth be told, I want to keep tender, not callused over even with acceptance.

 

On the Meaning of

This is what life does

It wakes you in the morning

before the morning

glories open and gives you

the sound of your mother's voice.

Life spreads itself across

the ceiling to make you think

you are penned in, but that

is just another gift.  Life takes

what you thought you couldn't live

without and gives you a heron instead.

And a dragonfly, stitching its way

through the milkweed.  Life contains all

of your tears in a vessel

shaped like hands in prayer.

Life is shape, sight, sound, bone.

It whispers and sings and holds

you and you almost never feel it.

You push your way from phase to phase.

You are a horse with  blinders.

You think you are pulling, but you

are being driven.

While going about your solitary life,

one hoof in front of the other,

real life is turning the stars,

like mirrors, in your direction.

 

Linda Back McKay

 

 



But that is just on the melancholy days, and I only dare them infrequently, knowing of Himself's disapproval of such indulgence.....