Knowing I've been wrestling with Hard Things this winter, my friend, the poet Penny Novack, sent me this poem--originally written for another friend, but, thinking of me recently, she said reminded her of me, too, and how she enjoys listening to us singing.
I'm honored.But also encouraged. And grateful to have such a friend.
Thinking Of You Singing
You are woven into the falling leaf, the budding branch
The daffodil white with snow.
You are still running through bright leaves which the great tree
Of your life has dropped.
You are the day's end and dawn and carry water drawn
From rain pools of childhood.
You travel on a carpet of life laid down by all who lived,
All who died
And you are birthing futures which will be shaped
By your will and hand.
Never say when death or destruction sweep the world
That you have not shielded love
That you have not made music
That you have not mattered.
|Photo: Zorba the Greek|
Reading those words yesterday morning, I nearly wept, I so needed to hear them.
To all my friends--and there are many--who have been struggling this winter too, I join with Penny. Never say you have not shielded love. Never say you have not mattered.