"People who don't love the moment are always trying to achieve something, but when one is on the way, every moment is 'it'." Charlotte, again!
Here are my momentary offerings of the morning. Thank you for your love and prayers.
Butterflies On My Socks
Why would I want to rush through chemo?
Isn’t this moment giving me all I need,
or could ever want?
Butterflies are lined up on my bright pink socks,
like fighter pilots,
fueled and ready to fly.
Their wings stretch down my legs and out to my toes,
and yet, there they are, like burrs on my socks,
going only where I go.
We share good times, my feet,
and the butterflies,
on my socks.
I tuck my feet under the chair,
and rub my toes back and forth,
on the floor.
My tummy is content,
butterflies at rest.
I accept the pace of my white blood cells,
even as I revel in your prayers,
and the pollen they bear,
for the butterflies,
in my care,
as their flight,
learns to rest,
day and night.
So quickly gone that morning blaze
in the sky,
now back to gray -
I might imagine how many times I miss it -
Instead I savor the times I don’t -
What’s that old saying
about being a mote in someone’s eye -
Aren’t we all,
in the guise,
to flapping patches of red,
like red-winged blackbirds,
swaying from cattails,
and singing from wires,
as the sky
like the wisdom
in our eyes -
May you receive the blessings of today, moment by moment, now by now, until the necklace clasped explodes in igniting ever more brightly what guides.