A poem inspired by past and recent events.
(On of the side of a building is a sign lit up with white, neon lettering, standing out against the night sky. The sign reads: Time is precious. Some of the building’s windows are darkened, while others are partially lit up.) Credit: Photo by Justin Veenema on Unsplash
It’s been a fairly eventful year of health concerns for myself and loved ones. I understand that diseases are a circumstance of the world and that Brighid is a source of healing and not of strife. However, I feel that life’s experiences can be likened to the transformation of a smith’s hammer, molding me into something else.
Slow Time
A while ago
I asked You,
What are you shaping me into?
Each event is a hammer’s ring,
a bit more taken off,
another edge smoothed.
Am I to be something stronger,
perhaps with some form or function?
Is the unknowing part of Your technique?
Will I be someone wiser, more understanding?
Will time be not taken for granted?
Will I have answers to these questions?
Each of these queries
is a sign in the dark,
both radiant and obscure.
It’s not any clearer now,
as it’s Slow Time,
a liminal period of uncertainty.
Days seem like weeks,
weeks like a month,
a year a long eternity.
Among the bright, happy sparks
and the darkened road of now,
I look to You.
With uncertainty on the horizon,
guide me to family and love,
lead me to where my heart should be.
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