The Swift Uplifting Rush

Sunny, cold, highs minus 6

I give you this
One thought to keep
I am with you still
I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken
In the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars
That shine at night

Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still
In each new dawn
Native American prayer

Michael and I had lunch yesterday with our very good friends and neighbours Guy and Nicole. One week ago they lost their only child, Martin.

Guy, and therefore Martin, has Abenaki blood in him. We gave them this prayer, framed. Nicole says she walks, morning, noon and night. And sometimes, deep in the woods, she screams.

Guy just cries.

I am the swift, uplifting rush

I wish we could be that for them. But all we can do is sit with them and trust that one day the howl will die down to a moan in the marrow.

Be well. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.