Two Simple Words

Morning light — photo unfiltered. untouched.
 I want to write of gratitude
 of how this year hasn’t been so bad
 how there’s so much good that’s come out of
 the bad
 and how I’ve learned so much and grown
 and found my way clear to living in this moment
 but the darkness outside my window
 seems to linger
 and I feel myself falling
 into its cloying embrace
 hoping it might hold me
 just a little bit longer
 all the while hoping
 it will let me go
 find my way out of the darkness.
 And my shoulders slump
 and my body grows tired
 of waiting for the morning light.
 I lean back into my chair
 close my eyes
 and try to take a deep breath
 but it’s not very deep
 this morning breath filled with
 the weary and worry of 
 these times
 that seem to grow heavier
 with every news report I read.
 And as I sit with eyes closed
 I hear my Auntie Maggie’s voice
 who at 90 lives alone in the city in southern India
 where she and my mother were born.
 She hasn’t been out of her house since March
 her only contact with ‘the outside world’
 her two servants who come daily
 and a neighbour who visits regularly
 and her What’sApp calls
 where she sometimes laughs and sometimes cries
 and always sings me a song from her childhood
 when she and my mother and all their siblings
 lived together in what they called
 their own private Shangri-la.
 Your mama loved to sing, she says
 And I remember and hear her sweet voice singing
 her favourite Christmas song, 
 “Il est né le divin enfant
 Jouez hautbois, résonnez musettes”
 And I smile and open my eyes 
 and see
 that in those few moments
 while I sat with eyes closed and spirits flagging
 the sun has broken through the darkness
 and streaked the sky with rosy hues
 that glow and pulse across the horizon
 in undulating waves
 of violet and pink and tiffany blue
 and the trees are dressed in cloaks of rose-brushed gold
 and the river flows deep in the morning glory
 of dawn breaking free of night.
 I want to write of gratitude
 and find myself here
 in this moment
 into the beauty of light
 bursting through the cracks.
 I want to write of gratitude
 but words escape me
 as I breathe into the grace
 that arrives with every breath
 when I let go of what I want
 of what I miss or regret or yearn for
 and let this prayer
 of two simple words
 be all that I can say.
 Thank You. 

Morning Reveries

A Chinook arch hangs low in the sky above the city.

The temperature rises with the warmth of its breath caressing the air.

The sun hides behind the arch.

I sit at my desk listening to piano music softly playing in the background, my fingers resting lightly on the keyboard of my laptop. Thoughts skitter through my mind like the squirrels leaping from tree branch to tree branch outside my window. The warm winds have cajoled them out of their nests. They run across the snow. Play chase in the trees and bushes.

On the far side of the river, the water runs freely in a slim channel under that hugs the shoreline.

Outside my window, on this side of the river, there is only the stillness of ice stretching out from the river bank.

The river lies quiet in the morning.  The ice clings to the cooler temperatures of night. Its surface is a glassy expanse of smooth ice and granulated snow blocks backed up against gravel bars that stretch out from the abutments beneath the bridge.

Morning has broken. Day has begun. I want to cling to the soft, cloying blanket of sleep. To remain cocooned beneath the covers, my body pressed up against my husband’s back.

Beaumont the Sheepadoodle has other ideas. Morning business calls. His wet nose pushes against my hand lying on top of the covers. He pulls me from my slumber, out into the coolness of the morning.

Day has begun. Morning has broken. The sky hangs low and grey. I stretch my body into the day. Welcome the softness of the air against my skin.

Morning has broken.

I greet the sacredness of this day with a whispered prayer of gratitude.

Morning has broken.

Here I am.


I am grateful to David Kanigan of Live & Learn who shared a verse from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Part Two XIV,” from Sonnets to Orpheus on his blog this morning. Rilke’s words caressed my mind, stirred my heart into morning reveries.