It’s magic: the seasons change,
magic, how time – that mysterious substance – moves along,
one touch of light to the next.
And then: darkness.
Magic: the clouds waltz in the sky.
Sometimes, they float together, granting us grey.
It is magic, (is it not?):
life passes so quickly and we are lost in trying to understand,
to comprehend its passing. (We forget to shake our heads in wonder.)
Magic: how ordinary light burns the branches of a tree,
sets it ablaze,
and I, witness to it, am grateful.
Magic: moment to the next moment:
now – now – and now…
Mary Elyn Bahlert, 9/24/17, Oakland
My heart goes out to everyone whose life has been disrupted by the hurricanes. My heart goes out to the poor, everywhere. And my heart hurts with the knowing that often, the poor are exploited, again and again, by the powers, those who hold power. In this, we who are privileged are complicit.
This sculpture, on the street in Dublin, Ireland, is a vivid and moving depiction of the Irish who fled their beloved land during the Potato Famine.
Photo by Mary Elyn Bahlert
I’m in the garden waiting for Brigit
As fall comes on.
She arrives, sighs from bending over,
and smiles at the harvest sparkling up at her.
Wind drives itself through her –
through her heart –
pain, at first,
The long, long letting go…
-Mary Elyn Bahlert, Connemara, August 31, 2017