by Sigrid E. Mortensen
© 2024
I felt serenity today.
This was not a feeling I expected to feel,
Not after the grief
Not after the despair
Not after the utter loss of faith in…
Everything:
My god,
My self,
My fellow human,
My belief in the rising tide of humanity,
Not after hope was stripped away from me like the bark off a branch that is
Waiting to be whittled into something new.
I felt serenity today.
It rose up in me
Unexpected
Quiet
Filling like a spring from some hidden source
Finding its level around my heart center
Inviting me to dwell there with it
To stare into calm water.
I’m not sure what triggered this feeling.
Perhaps it was the kiss of late autumn sunshine on my hair.
Perhaps it was the azure skies
Or the breath of cool air in my lungs.
Perhaps it was the working of my biceps as I squeezed the loppers around yet another
Rouge branch of my peach tree.
Perhaps it was the accomplishment of a physical labor well done
Or the metaphor of pruning,
Of cutting back what is not wanted
So new growth can occur.
Or maybe this serenity sprouted from the seeds planted the night before
During a gather of friends
And food
And wine
Of hugs and laughter and understanding when
Just hours before
I was convinced I’d never laugh again.
Perhaps serenity sprang from the warm embrace of community.
I had spent days churning through the stages of grief
Like a paddle wheel digging into the river
Bringing up buckets of tears
Then rage
Then again, unbidden weeping
Followed equally unexpectedly by the urge to smash something.
And if shock is denial,
And if the hope that
Something
Might yet change teeters between denial and bargaining,
Then I felt those stages, too.
But not acceptance.
I could never feel acceptance.
I could not accept what my mind screamed
With complete certainty
Was the unacceptable.
And yet today
Through sheer grace
I felt serenity
And if the gift of serenity,
However fleeting,
Is one flavor of acceptance,
Then I have tasted even this stage.
So I shall savor it when it comes.
I shall marvel at the wonder of it.
I shall let it glow like an ember at the core of my being
Not expecting it to burst into flame
But perhaps radiating enough heat
To warm a grieving heart
If only for an afternoon.