Yesterday on FB, a friend shared a poem I wrote at the end of 2020.
I am always grateful when people share my words. I feel a big burst of joy and gratitude erupt within me. It fills my writer’s heart.
I am also glad when the sharing reminds me of what’s most important, of what matters, and what is possible.
The poem she shared was written in one of Ali Grimshaw’s writing circles, a space I regularly and gratefully share with five other women.
I am sharing it again today because while at the time, I hoped Covid would be gone last year, it still lingers. Over the past few days my eldest daughter, her husband and my grandchildren all came down with it. Several friends have succumbed to its thrall as has one of my husband’s business partners.
We continue to hold our circle tight. Limiting contact. Limiting exposure.
And still, the sun shines. The birds sing. The riveer flows, albeit through a narrow channel surrounded by ice. The trees stand sentinel, naked branches spread out as if reaching to touch the sky.
And life continues to flow full of adventures and opportunities, possibilities and new imaginings.
And through it all, this nasty little virus continues to cause illness and death, sorrow and grief.
And through it all, life continues to flow, full of births and deaths, offerings and takings, beginnings and endings.
And through it all, Love continues to call us home to where we belong.
to read the original post from December 31, 2020, click HERE.
Thank you Shannon for the reminder and the gift of your sharing.