Oh the blessed feel of water, deep in my soul it cleanses me, I lay prone in my bed a child and I splash in my dreams.
A buck came and visited me while I watered the garden this morning, his antlers twisted and broken and he pawed the ground and snorted his language and I wasn’t afraid. He knew a kindred when he saw one.
There was a beautiful bird, all light and freedom at the bath in the garden cool,she was calm as I have ever been, sipping the water and fluffing her feathers, still young and beautiful. A large black crow came and landed on the picket fence and she startled, the water glistening off of her feathers. She looked at me and I smiled and she flew off, as easily as she bathed. I envied her calm.
I am all below the glistening dew of youth, eyes that are reflecting age. I am the snorting, twisted purpose of speech, because the body has weakened and I find no amount of prodding or pushing will move it at times. So I am learning patience, in the calm of the garden visits. I am learning the blessed piece of silence. I am finding words to encourage those with wings to know it’s song. Sing it, blessed sing it, while you can. This time is precious and fleeting. We think it is a struggle now, just wait. How does one know the hour?
I am blessed because I have survived. Scarred and broken, burned and tortured, the face I see is a warriors face. It can no longer hide the searing losses of dreams and love. It can no longer appear young, unless it is beneath the brim and behind the shaded windows. I am blessed because I still have words and thoughts and stories to share. I still can look into this garden that I built from rock on a mountain and watch the bee’s and the butterfly and the birds give thanks for my efforts.
Oh the blessed wake up call of gratitude among pain. Oh the blessed knowledge of something akin to grace.