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.