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 It’s been a strange year,
People coming and going as if there’s no tomorrow,
Dropping in from nowhere,
Burrowing and burning their way out to somewhere.
Flame or dust,
Passing each other on that long straight highway
That tells them nothing.
All moving carefully,
Just wanting to be safe,
Knowing that even at this late stage,
Safety is not a foregone conclusion.

We’ve all heard about the ones
Who almost went, then changed their mind.
Coming back for a last try at it.
We’ve all heard of those who went before their time,
Not bothering to turn around but moving on.
There’s the sadness of it.
There’s the pity of it.
For all of us, there’s the pity.

We defy the calendar that stares at us
Hiding pain and sorrow in its numbers,
Hiding loss so severe, borne only with fortitude.
So much is hidden from us.
So much sadness, so much joy, so much laughter,so much love,
So much tender longing that lives in a touch.
There is always hope in that Greek information,
Love opening to us a place of welcome
Where we warm ourselves on one another.

Poor saps.
But saved by love.

                                               © Gwen Grant

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