I wake to the moon, still bright and nearly full. And I light candles, say prayers, and sing morning lullabies. What else can one do when the world carries on as it does and the weak ones cry harder and harder?
I say, when the bed is tousled and the mind will not cease its dark wanderings, then rise like the moon. Stand in the nightlight and let the tears fall as they will. Let them spill into praying and then into singing, and then who knows what? Howling? Laughing? Dancing? Maybe we just need to talk out loud… talk to God or to the dog or simply to our own voices so we can hear the life still seeping forward, still urging us toward the daylight. I cannot lift the veil that covers the heart and eyes to goodness and joy. I cannot mend what tears so loudly that even the trees lean in to comfort. I cannot wrestle your demons nor barely my own. But I can come close. I can rise from sleep and be with you until the sky warms to pink hues and something begins to warm again in the depth of the soul. I can stand here, with the moon, present to this life that is both gory and glorious. I can say to you, my friend, my daughter, my sister, my brother, my loved ones, my strangers… we are here together, and we shall not be forgotten or forsaken. When the inner life strains and our bodies feel lost, we must go to the window and listen into the night. Take your body there. I am praying that your strength and courage and hope and joy will follow. |
Kathy Guisewite"To be about there Archives
April 2021
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