Rapture

Odd, this gift of solitude. Perched canal side, I affirm my connection to the earth, and offer thanks. Late afternoon sun casts a glow on the foliage across the way, lighting up the mirror-still water. Vibrant reflections.

Two winters ago, I fought to breathe as temperatures fell below zero.  Impassible walkways trapped me indoors.  Depression fought for possession. Hope struggles in imposed isolation.

“There are no absolutes in life,” a professor once told me, and I think of that now –
how just when it feels as if one sentence has been handed down, sealed, an opening appears.  I am fortunate, savour the moment.

Heron’s watchful stride
invites reflection, respect –
Winter’s solitude.

(Image my own.)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

35 thoughts on “Rapture”

  8. What “thoughtful” words. I wish I could hand you a sentence that would free you once and for all. But then again, I know many, yet I find I struggle with the gift of solitude so often. We must keep defining and receiving it as a “gift”.

    I disagree with your philosopher. Without absolutes, I struggle in vain.

    I am deliriously enraptured with Heron and their ability to wait.

    Have a hopeful day!

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  10. VJ….oh….my….goodness. I’m in awe…absolute awe…of your artistry. Thank you. I don’t know what I love more – the heron or your beautiful words in accompaniment. 💕

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