Dance of Kindness
She Will Not Be Quiet: A (mostly unedited) daily writing practice
Jotting from my journal. Day #148 of (mostly unedited) daily writing/sharing
Dance of Kindness
On a day when the mind is a flood
of horrific images, heart a heavy,
heavy thing,
I remember the photos my friend sent
of the two Cedar Waxwings, her note about
how these winged wonders, berry in mouth,
take turns hopping away from each other,
hopping back,
hopping away
hopping back
until one of them eats the berry
from the other's open mouth—
against the backdrop of so much
heartbreaking horror, this
tender dance of kindness
is almost too much.
I place my hand on my heart
and say an urgent prayer:
Please, please help us
be more like these winged ones, help
us remember how to be tender,
how to take care of one another
in a world that's so often
too much.
Oh Julia, I hardly have words. I love that you wrote about "this tender dance of kindness." I have been thinking about these Cedar Waxwings so much lately. Your urgent prayer that closes the poem expresses everything my heart is feeling:
"Please, please help us
be more like these winged ones, help
us remember how to be tender,
how to take care of one another
in a world that's so often
too much."
This. Every word of this. Thank you so much for these words, and for your tender, wide-open heart. Thank you for your kindness.