Fidelity

Another candle. Another prayer. Another substitute for what is real.

Sitting down to write, a cardinal inches side to side on the rim of the gutter, his red tail hanging over the edge. I see him off my right shoulder and looking back at him from a position underneath, I see light streaming through this tail feathers. His staccato is untranslatable because I am not a bird. Yet I love him and he is here so I open my arms and heart always to him. Always.

Though I can't make it fit, I know what love undoes. I know Who undoes it. For Mary Magdalene and even for Jesus, it didn't happen alone. Who is Christ, really? They are We.

The space between the stars isn't empty.

Dawn arrives as a smokey mirror. Inch by inch fog burns away to unveil this moment and this one and this. How many times do we pay for a mistake? One hundred thousand.

The impeccability of words. Are you enslaved or set free? My heart aches for sonnets and deep turtle dives. Always you.

Love is stronger than this death. A mercy. A dialogue. A constant exchange. The conversation of angels. And the river is no longer enough. Nor is the lake.

Life tries its hand at “normal” which means deeper grays emerge. Less technicolor. I make the font bigger on the computer and increase the brightness. MM stands to the side with her hands folded which is super unusual for her. A teaching moment, I guess. She watches the turtle flipped over on her back, legs and arms waving for something to help turn.

Buffalo chicken in the slow cooker, greens on the side. Plans for better health. Better fitness. Better anything coming from whatever this is. Bitter, much?

Assumptions set us up for suffering. There is a fidelity and truth in accepting love the way it is presented.