I’ve thought a lot of grace
on this windy, wintry day (wintry in the Carolina sense—
60, maybe, and gray).
Is this resurrection—
a dimness we cannot fathom, a mirror reflecting darkly,
an overcast spring day?
Perhaps this dimness is
all we can take for now, lit up about as bright as we can stand.
Grace given with more grace.
I want to believe this:
the world has a life of its own we cannot kill, not completely,
despite our best efforts.
It will come back, for good,
and next time we’ll want it, greet it with open hearts and brimming eyes.
I can see it, almost.
For now, let it all go.
All of it. Empty yourself, turn back towards that far off spring, and
look, always look again.