Thursday, September 11, 2014

Another Sun

Another sun rises
over the dark zone,
light warming, informing
by casting shadows
that define moment.

Another sun rises
moving to mark one
more passage of longing
for resolution,
for healing content.

Another sun rises,
teasing leaves, none
of which will be lasting
much longer; indeed,
the season is spent.

Another sun rises,
declaring all be done
that is not inviting
of newness, of life,
of seeking advent.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Today marks a terrible anniversary. We cannot forget all that happened, where we were when it happened, or what we felt. We cannot forget the tragic loss of life, the families torn apart, the fear in our hearts in the hours and days that followed.

I take much satisfaction in knowing that my children have no memories about this horror--they were toddlers. It makes me happy to know that children born after this day have little knowledge or understanding of what this day means to us, the old-timers.

These young people are growing, living with the nearly carefree abandon we all should be feeling, each day, as we rise from our sleep to a new morning. We should celebrate each morning, even this one. 

We should not retain this day as a time to mourn; our mornings should celebrate every new beginning, each new life, those actions that bring about change, all moments of beauty that fly in the face of tragedy and death. 

Morning returns, the sun rises, the shadows define the dimensions of all that appears to us, all that we must negotiate. But we must remember that day lights the way to newness and possibility, to the opportunity presented in each moment. 

My prayer for you and for me, and for us all, is that we rise, like the sun each morning, in search of making the day better, safer, kinder and more generous for every life.


Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Starlight Ballroom

With a subtlety
bordering on flagrancy,
every outer contour
of awareness
opens to the great dance.

So many strive
against conformity
by conforming;
proclaiming their uniqueness,
they spiral inwardly toward implosion.

Can you keep a secret?

This world of light and dark,
of beauties seen and unseen,
does not feel any dominion we claim,
and only just tolerates our presence.

In ever expanding waves of motion,
patterns weave an imperfect math,
advancing the latest musical form,
one poised to rend the fabric of time
and make everything new.

Given the choice,
I would rather unravel
into starlit dance.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen