Day Twenty Four
There is a feeling that sometimes arrives on this day, usually after the sun has set and the shops are all shut, and all that can be done has been done. It’s hard to describe and I am unsure of its origin, but it arrives like a benison from heaven and is like a sweet balm on sore skin, easing away pain and anxiety and suffering.
The best I have ever been able to do is to put some of my responses into poetry.
Deep bliss, a feeling of velvet inside
An inarticulate rightness of being,
brightness of being right
And I cannot tell why or how
This feeling comes:
A simple certainty that all shall be well,
Now and always.
I cannot capture this feeling, pin down
And dissect it, tear its secrets apart
To reveal the truth I already know.
An image of bright butterflies,
The lark rising with its song,
A moment of purest knowing
Beyond that of intellect
And I sit here now,
Christmas Eve 2003