August came and went.
It was swift.
Sometimes gentle,
But,
Mostly abrupt
with it’s touch.
Leaving me
And
My hands
Opened
To surrender
My pride
That so heavily is
Intertwined with
My need
to control
Time
My heart
& mind
And circumstances that bind.
August carries so naturally with it
transitions—
Shifts
Turns
Disruptions—
both holy
and
wholly chaotic
Whether one moves
Or
Stays put
August pushes each
To bid farewell
To the summer songs
That the cicadas and birds sing
The late nights of sun
And the slow mornings of no rush.
With the transitions comes
An adrenaline
A rush
For an anticipated new season
To
begin
For the last page of summer
To break
As a new chapter
Begins.
But, with this August,
Transition is linked to
This pandemic
That still persists
Even if we want to resist
Or dismiss any
and all of it.
So, we have to slow down
The new rush.
We have to grab a hold of whatever we can
That sustains
And lifts our spirits
And
That also feels consistent
In this different transition.
So, I reach out for the hands
Of my roommates’
And near friends’
I hold tightly to my chair
As my feet remain firm
on my porch ground
bear
I say hello to my neighbor’s kitty
I walk through the gardened sidewalk
I cook a meal
And breathe deep
To release
To remember
This too shall pass
These holy moments around me still remain
As the unpredictable new page
Turns
To welcome me
Into what feels like a chapter I could never write alone or on my own.
September, let your song sing and lead the black ink.
