Yesterday began with dying camels and starving
polar bears, but just two hours later a blooming
plant popped up in the garden that had never
been there before: its white curled petals opening
around its yellow face and, just like that,
my heart turned itself towards spring. The light
is lasting a smidgen longer in the evening,
the sky is a lighter shade of pale.
The apocalypse may be on its way
but it isn't here yet. And it doesn't take much -
the big waves rolling in, the way
the rounded slopes of Wah-nah-jus
circle round the bay, a small bloom
arriving from who-knows-where,
the subtle hint of spring, and my
buoyant heart remembers
how to sing.
Inspired by Sorrow Is Not My Name by Ross Gay.
Something so little can break through the fog and make the heart sing.. the right little something!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you too have a buoyant heart!
ReplyDeleteYes, despite all, there is always something to give one a 'buoyant heart.'
ReplyDeleteThose who know, just know! May you always remember how to sing...
ReplyDelete