Libra Waxing Crescent Moon.
To describe the awesome power of hope, I wanted to share a poem that I feel captures its creativity. Sometimes, moments push us to create, even the most dire of circumstances.
In those last moments before I fall asleep, I hear the machine beep.
Beep, beep, beep. Outside this disinfected, infected, dying box of tubes and wires, there is sunlight. Starlight. The moon shines, and reminds me. We are all so small. Little beeps of heart beats, and yet the divine wisdom within that beep, the divine beauty in the creation of this machine, that keeps me alive, as I struggle for breath. There is hope in that beep. There is hope in that heart to continue on. To see the next moon. The next sunrise. The next first star to cast another night’s wish. Tomorrow, I go home.”
Hope has this strange energy about it. It seems senseless, yet when there is hope, you feel fully aware of the circumstances at hand. It is perserverance in the face of adversity. The power that is created can be a word, a phrase of encouragement to keep going. Which is the very thing we need to refuel our stores.
Some of the best poetry that I know of has been written in times of pain and suffering and have a center theme of hope.
Where there is hope, there is still life. And where there is still life my friends, there is still poetry.
Good night. Sweet dreams.
Poem imagined written in hospital as I stand watch in the ICU.
Lunar meditation posed by Caitlin Matthews, Celtic Devotional.