• rite of spring

    by  • April 13, 2013 • change, grief, hope, poetry • 2 Comments

    these are days littered with losses
    the absences seem more present
    perhaps because we marked eighteen
    months since my father-in-law died

    now the news comes of others —
    one who made me laugh and one who
    reminded me God laughs, too
    hard to navigate life without

    hitting these pot-holes of the heart
    even the ones we know are there
    but we keep going keep going
    while the wind sings a gospel song

    and  calls me to the harmony
    as the redbud offers its first bloom
    with last fall’s leaves still scattered
    over the dust from whence we came

    Peace,
    Milton

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    2 Responses to rite of spring

    1. anita
      April 13, 2013 at 11:16 am

      The “potholes of the heart” (really like that term) seem to intensify once they start. Some are blessings in that they are God’s true and complete healing. Otherwise, the heart hurts. I think that’s why we hold hands more as we walk along, just like kindergarteners. Or maybe we are better at holding on to that kindergarten rope as we walk, only now the rope has a name: God.

    2. April 13, 2013 at 9:54 pm

      sigh… I know this… you put it so well.

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