I am haunted by the ice-edge of idyllic winter, the slip and shine of it, the beauty that can't be kept, the brilliance that is itself a splintering of light. What thin membranes hold life as we know it in place! How elusive the boundaries between the mundane and the profound--the Infant and stable and sword inextricably linked. There is much we cannot hold, and much--thank God!--we cannot hinder.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
I am haunted by the ice-edge of idyllic winter, the slip and shine of it, the beauty that can't be kept, the brilliance that is itself a splintering of light. What thin membranes hold life as we know it in place! How elusive the boundaries between the mundane and the profound--the Infant and stable and sword inextricably linked. There is much we cannot hold, and much--thank God!--we cannot hinder.
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I am reminded of how that thin edge. Maybe we notice it more in inter and perhaps are more cautious. A frined of Anna's drowned in the river behind her house this week. I have often thought of another frined when I read your writing. Alyssa has a keen appreciation of the natural world. She is the one that introduced me to Mary Oliver. But she drove a bus for the first time when it was raining, giving a break to the others who had spent the day doing clean-up from Katrina. Alyssa mistook a ditch for an off-ramp. It was raining and night. Another frined of Anna's died in that accident. That membrane is so thin. I appreciate using this post to process. Thanks
ReplyDeleteI'm glad this blessed you, Newell, and I'm sorry about those losses. It's sobering how fragile life is.
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