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