To both daughters— we still wake under the same Sun
Learn in freshness of every early morning an old lesson
Learned again and again as Earth is warmed by spring light—
Heat allows the world to start over, riot of blossoming color,
Dew upon green grass departs as birds lay eggs in nest—
All signs that even a broken heart can heal.
I write poetry, in part, because I bless children—
Not only you but especially you, believe the reach of arms
Is wider when wordless prayer is swiftly sent.
Do you ever sense an invisible embrace? Do you ever
Glance and see stalwart tree and think
How kind its branches are, to shelter under
Leaves those who cannot explain what sorrow needs?
Words are only words, meager at times, yet
Sometimes strong as certainty thinks it knows—
Power not yet acknowledged
Questions the house and every closed door,
Unread books scattered across the floor.
“More!”, you say. “More!” is the message
Spoken by dawn each day.
“More!” is the message of every wave
Washing against the shore, containing even
Salt of truth that stings the wound,
Brings forgiveness, brings healing, brings hope.
Today, I am grateful for daughters,
Young and beautiful and strong.
As long as stalwart tree does stand
Its arms reach out, hold space for the lark
To sing sweet song. hidden or clear,
There’s always deeper meaning here,
Every note enlarging the circle….
Warms the air for easier breathing.
For now, I leave a note, a poem, a song,
A wordless prayer that
Whatever light you see
Will be enough to touch your grief,
Illuminate a portal not yet seen—
A wider room, a wilder meadow.