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As Long as a Life

I wrote this to answer my heart's question, "How do you keep on when the weight of all that matters grows too heavy to carry?"

Maybe you've had this question, too. How are you finding rest right now? I wish you a sit-beneath-the-cedars sort of day.

As Long as a Life

Sometimes I go To the abbey near my house In search of sacred space And silence In the air are dust motes Dragonflies and sung prayer

At the edge of the pond At the foot of the hill There is a quiet room A wall of windows at one end Cushions and kneeling benches In a neat grid on the floor

From my seat I can see A row of tidy white crosses Near the monk’s quarters And a stand of old trees Evergreen, collected Each moment I choose where to turn my gaze

As long as a life Within sight of one’s end Colors the present vividly Fosters hope and not despair Keep your eyes on the grave

But if the nearness of death Stokes fear And spins a frantic striving Look away for a time Sit as pupil beneath the cedars

Learn the long grace Of those who rise Live so freely in one place And then fall

Who even after death Release their essence Nourish so well With their letting go

©2018 Bethany Lee

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