Today, I am longing for the sun.
Dark grey clouds have lingered for
what feels like years, each minute
stretches into a month.
The haze has taken up residence in
my mind. My neurons have rolled
over for a rest, my thoughts have
punched out for their break.
And I think of this damaged world.
How can there be any beauty
in this world?
I think of this damaged world
and I see darkness and chaos –
I see protests in the streets
and rain storms that go pitter patter.
I see politicians on tv arguing about
basic life-saving matters.
It is so easy to get caught up in
this damaged world.
How do people find wonder
in this damaged world?
I see refugees turned away,
I see people experiencing
homelessness in the streets.
It is so easy to get entangled
with this damaged world,
to think of dark days filled
with bright lightening and
echoing thunder.
I have nightmares of this
damaged world, gripping fear
that the storm will never part.
I ache for light, for warmth.
So on days when I miss the sun
I try to remember long July days,
when the warmth was beating
down on me as I walked hand
in hand down a dusty trail.
I think of fresh cold peaches
straight from the fridge,
the way the grass overgrows
every trail, fighting for dominance
amongst our clambering footsteps.
I sing myself stories of the end
of winter when the world wakes
up again, of dancing with the wild
flowers and smelling their sweet pollen.
I tip toe around the house, humming
a tune about nothing, thinking about
all of the warmth I will one day feel again.
I think of the mailman that whistles a soft
melody to himself, of the way the
grocery store clerk checks out items
to a rhythm only she knows.
I listen to the stillness around me,
strain to hear a faint bird’s hymn
in the sky, praising the way the clouds
whisper by.
I remember us laying together,
the light filtering in through
the window.
And I give thanks for this damaged world.
I sing the praises of its imperfections.
I learn that this beauty I feel would
be nothing without the struggles
of this damaged world.
I treasure how the storms
nourish the beautiful flowers.
I cherish how the clouds cool
down the air, how the lightening
dazzles the sky.
I fall in love with this damaged world,
I think of brothers coming together.
I dream of birds chirping and building
their nest in harmony, balancing
on a big, blooming tree.
And I remind myself
how to praise the sun.