For those Who Give Unceasingly, and are Weary


Now in these lonely hours
when you wake seized by anxiety's harsh fist,
when worry leaches your spirit of color
and your breath comes fast as if keeping you just alive--

Now, as you gaze into this grey, unchanging abyss

May color startle you:
Look, coming up from darkness--
this bright red bird beating strong wings!

May you hear music in the treetops,
yes, even in the trees you forgot grew around you,
lifting branches to sky.

May you open your arms to feel strength
beginning in your fingertips,
spreading up and through each weary cell
until your breath comes deeply, solidly.

May you open your hands to receive
gifts as soft as bird feathers.

To you who give unceasingly,
they speak of sacrifice and suffering--
to you who live in love, they sing too
of flying, of wings.

Dear beloved one,
today may you find courage,
the splendid hope of birds,
voices singing all around you:
You are not unseen,
you are known,
you are not alone.

_
For my dear Aunt P., who has for many, many months been an unceasing caregiver and who has, for many, many decades, lived a life full of love.

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