When I think how many times I could have died, and didn’t
When I think how I was saved from harm
When I think how beautiful it is to be able to be with people I love
When I think how love has shown itself to me over and over, how every period of despair has been followed by regrowth and renewal
When I am grateful for the insights and wisdom shown to me by others
When I am lucky enough to walk free outdoors and not be confined
When strength comes to persevere
When joy comes, when contentment comes, when I am filled with appreciation for life, for the capacity to feel joy and sorrow, for the ability to be aware of what is beyond myself,
How can I not be grateful for the protections and support that have brought me this far?
To all the protectors, seen and unseen, I bow down and say thank you.
To all the support, seen and unseen, I bow down and say thank you.
And to the source of all, beyond words, beyond anything that can be said, I bow down and say thank you.
© 2023 Shanti Natania Grace
Photo: Heart Vine Wood, by Shanti Natania Grace
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two Poems by Jane Kenyon
(1947-1955)
Otherwise
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Let Evening Come
Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
From Otherwise: New and Collected Poems, by Jane Kenyon
