A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

Photo by Katarzyna Grabowska on Unsplash

Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself,

By Barbara Crooker

like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.

The above is a poem written by one of my favorite poets, Barbara Crooker. If you like poetry and you’ve not read her, please do; you won’t be sorry.

I’ve been feeling like I’m walking through water; you know, that curious thing that can happen with grief. I am better than I was right after my beautiful dog Gabby died, but not a whole lot. Time is what it will take, and even then, the memory will sting. The perils of love. Barbara’s beautiful words offered hope, that best and sometimes most elusive of things.

I have said before and will say again that I mean not to get too political on this page, but for God’s sake. For God’s sake!

I remember wearing a plaid dress with a little bow at the top, I must have been in fifth grade or so. I was in music class and we were singing “This is My Country,” and the boy who sat next to me and I enjoyed a friendly rivalry when the lyric went, “What difference if I hail from North (here I would pump my fist a bit) or South (then it was his turn to celebrate where HE came from). “ It was friendly; there was room to celebrate both places. We respected each others’ differences. Imagine. I am astonished at how out of control things seem after such a short time, and I hardly know what to pay most attention to, and worst of all, I just don’t know what to DO.

Well, as ever, there are things that help. Like Barbara’s poem. And here are a few things that might also work as salve for your soul: