Two Years
In two years, where will I stand? My oldest will be off in college and youngest
just starting HS. Life will certainly roll on with bills to pay, laundry and
such. But what about the real? What about the dreams? What about the love? What
will be moving through my veins to help
me create? What instrument will
entice me to learn a pretty melody and sing a new song? In two years, will I be
stronger in spirit and mind and body? These winter stars are seemingly more bright and
clear. With persistence, they pull to
tell a story. I find myself, under them, in the cold early morning quiet, as I walk to start the fire in the
cottage. I can't help but stop, gaze up
and breathe. Breathe deeply. In goes the cold, winter's air full of the
beauty of every early morning sky. Many mornings I have stood and gleened and
wondered. I hope in two years there is more time to take in these precious,
fleeting moments of time that work my roots and reveal my place. A place of
vastness and unknown, of opening and understanding, of passage and movement...of
love. The birds are sounding their morning calls. Today it is more a
disgruntled bird song to accompany the sudden cold and icy rain. Yesterday's
melodies had been sung as they would in early Spring. The robins had come
yesterday only to go today, somewhere, to wait out the storm. Sort of a false
start to Spring and new beginnings. Wanting
to initiate but needing to wait until all is aligned. Two years, seems like a
long time but the way the last one flew by, it will here before we know it. And
me? I want to pray and work with an open
heart, mind with intent to give-to find my place
in the world. Happy New Year everyone! (Inspiration from writing prompt-Peggy Tabor Millin and reading a Mary Oliver poem-Journey -read on)
The Journey by Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles,
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop
You knew what you had to do
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
The Journey
One day you
finally knew
what you had to
do, and began,
though the voices
around you
kept shouting
their bad
advice--
though the whole
house
began to tremble
and you felt the
old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't
stop.
You knew what you
had to do,
though the wind
pried
with its stiff
fingers
at the very
foundations,
though their
melancholy
was terrible.
It was already
late
enough, and a
wild night,
and the road full
of fallen
branches and
stones.
But little by
little,
as you left their
voices behind,
the stars began
to burn
through the
sheets of clouds,
and there was a
new voice
which you slowly
recognized as
your own,
that kept you
company
as you strode
deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing
you could do--
determined to
save
the only life you
could save.
