Oh so weary of planning for eventualities,
Still shaking the burden of worry, that
Incessant presence of mortality which
Hovered closer than a breath of air.
So far has been traveled this year, so
Deep the imprint of memories on the psyche:
Hidden faces behind tight masks,
The look of fear, like a frightened animal in the wild, the
Witness of lonely deaths, grief tunneling its way into the heart.
How to open the door slowly.
How to gather what remains to be
Salvaged, to be treasured, to be found.
And pausing to acknowledge
How the world goes round in its orbit,
Even this year staying on course, the humbling
Reminder of both limits, and expansiveness.