
Crafting Hope
December 27, 2020The craft of hope is no longer a challenge to me, so much as honoring its value in the world.
The craft of hope is no longer a challenge to me, so much as honoring its value in the world.
I’d be teaching my kids wonderment, full time.
Today I untethered the cart
and felt the space we’d made in me,
empty cupped hands.
What can live there now?
What will it be like, someday, when my children are running through the forest after I’ve died? Will they feel me with them, sharing in their joy?
I think thats why it can be difficult to talk about that doorway, I disappear completely. There are no words, and little thought. Absolute silence from within.
Its one of those things you do together that reveals who you really are. We were always people who would take the road less traveled, even when it was hard, and find all the beauty that was to be had there.
I would like to carry her
down this hallway,
my sometimes tender
often edgy bird,
to lay her on the waiting bed.
When you’re under a spell your life can feel like that: this is not real, this is not how things are supposed to be, yet you’re trapped. This insanity has become the new real. It feels like you’re farther away from whats real than you ever have been before, but really the opposite is true. This middle place is closer to the new real than you realize, you just have more to pass through.
We have to feed it to them carefully, sensuously, even though we know when they eat it they’ll feel like they’re dying. But how else can they be reborn?
Its been storming hard here for weeks, they’re starting to call it the 100 year flood…maybe. The hillsides, sometimes barren from drought or fire, seem…
Mending asks us to sing.
Mending may require dance.
Mending asks us to allow ourselves to be filled with light.
Mending asks us to grow.
Mending requires that we receive as well as give.
I miss the dignity of an inauguration that included a poet like Maya Angelou. Hearing her read “On the Pulse of Morning” made me feel for a time like I, who wrote many poems back then, was actually somehow a relevant part of this nation.
You can’t love this place without making room for the ways we’ve scared it. Our injuries conjure forth its vitality, dispelling any doubt in its regenerative power. It is not only vulnerable, it is vulnerability, that is the nature of vital places.