Grace Drifts In

 

This week, this week—when we all heard what happened in a Texas school and lamented how unbelievable it is that this can keep on occurring. Again and again. It’s a world filled with incomprehensible tragedy.  And it’s also a world where there’s grace, love and hope.

Grace, in the form of an evening of poetry, music and art, put together by two women, one a poet, the other an artist, who have been friends for many years. Grace in the form of family, friends, neighbours and community who came together to support this launch into the world, a work of collaboration, joy and creativity, five years in the making. The two women read from the book of poetry, Grace Drifts In, beautifully illustrated by the artist in the duo. Their children sang as did the church choir. The music director stunned us with her operatic voice ringing out through the church hall. The evening ended with all invited to sing “What A Wonderful World”. Not being a singer, I listened, enthralled with the rich male voice coming from behind me. Small moments of grace, drifting in.

Then later in the week, a wedding of a friend, a second marriage, after years of searching. A day that began rainy and windy, suddenly brightened into sunshine. As the mature bride and groom stepped onto the patio, love and hope drifted in.

A lovely surprise floated into my inbox. A recording of three poems that I submitted to an Open Mic community radio show (CIUT.FM) were accepted and will be read on air.

And with the week it has been, I added some anticipation. After two and a half years of learning Spanish on my phone app and no travel, I’ve booked myself on a flight in September to Spain, where I will hike and learn Spanish and try hablar español en España.

Grief. Anguish. Injustice. Grace. Love. Hope…and Anticipation. Is it a Wonderful World?

*

No More

Bullets rang out like a school bell summons

Hope withered that day on the classroom floor

Sweet dreams of the future were all at once

Violently dashed away. No more, no more.

Again, tears and anguish of kin and kith

And song drifting in an open window

This is the legacy we now live with.

Is it hope I hear amid—No more, No more?

A mountain glimpsed high, a riverbed dried

Spring flowers bloomed, green saplings galore

Two friends held hands, speaking words that rhymed

Is it love I hear amid—No more, No more?

                Bullets rang out and hope left through the door

                A promise, a pledge, a plea—No more, No more.