Today I sat outdoors and was delighted in the progression of spring. the vivid first green gold buds opening in tiny sun drenched leaf, the gift of light. I thought of my Dad and my Mom- a lot of anniversary dates soon coming up and so on this busy morning, I will revisit a poem from a few years ago written in the first year of being absent both of my parents.
And then, like magic,
again there was light.
fearful i would fail to see,
nets were left to save some sparkle
and wake my eyes
from the shadows.
buds are opening in brilliant greens,
a velvet moss covers the hillside,
lilies of the valley are poking through.
bird songs fill my quiet places.
Maybe it is not a coincidence
both of my parents left in springtime.
maybe it would be impossible
to not be lost under the weight of winter.
in its soft and sleepy solitude.
but springtime is awakenings.
shadows are here as dancers,
not as blankets to pull over ones head.
even brisk breezes call
it is time
and if any gift is left behind
it should be one
of the moment.
the past is told
through different visions –
and we and god know
ours do differ.
I have wondered why
you do not visit my dreams.
but maybe i have misunderstood.
maybe your visits
are in the awakening