Friends

Thy gentleness hath made me great.  (Psalm 18:35)

There are people in your life (were they brought to you?)
who make you feel you were born at the right time
and in the right place.

People genuinely kind as to make you feel recklessly whole,
gentle as to make you welcome your imperfections
(which you know are many).

People who through the red wine of conversation
help you quit your habit of hedging moments of happiness
against their inevitable passing.

People with such soul-beauty as to give you the ability
to endure provocations, grievances, even betrayals.

People who’ve opened a window for you,
given you salve for your eyes,
led you to the edge of town above a river
where you paint things wrapped in light.

People that don’t invite praise or devotion,
just regular people living with their own troubles, griefs, fears,
things that piss them off,
but who are naked enough to help you shed
that self-referencing desire
and hear the living-hymn
within the grand human choir.

20 Comments

  1. Hey Stephen. Reading your reflection this morning made me think of our mutual friend, Fr. James Gray. What a blessing he has been to me! I continue to be grateful and work at paying it forward. Cultivating an attitude of gratitude has been a goal for me and your thoughts on “Friends” echo that sentiment.

    1. Father James was such a friend. We’ve been blessed, are blessed by his continued presence, the indelible mark he’s left on our lives. Very grateful that you recalled him, and for your thoughts. Thank you Sheldon.

  2. This is just beautiful <3 You have perfectly described my female friends about whom I've been journalling 🙂 May I cite this (and link back to you) when I blog about my completed project?

  3. How beautiful, Stephen.
    I am struck by the lines “People who through the red wine of conversation help you quit your habit of hedging moments of happiness against their inevitable passing”
    That is what I do, hedge moments of happiness against their inevitable passing…and changes are coming that will bring that tendency to the fore. But, in your words, I am reminded of gratitude and the sweet continuum of all of my life as a whole, and for those who have made it so. Thank you.

    1. Thank you Ann. I too have excluded present joy through some anticipated fear. But have rediscovered it through friends who take you outside of yourself. Here’s to embracing the “changes to come”.

  4. I loved the last line – “the grand human choir.” I’m sure I sometimes sing off-key, but what a chorus! Thanks for this.

  5. After a few days of punishing emails from an over-zealous and not very pleasant mother of a student, I am trying to figure out why I do what I do. At times it can be so frustrating as you try to support, guide, provide wisdom to young adults only to have them run to mom to complain that life isn’t perfect. It is at these moments, I watch the fading sun illuminate the mountain slope, showing hints of red and orange of the maple blossoms-to-be. And I turn to poetry and beautiful essays, to catch up on your posts Stephen and the newest essay by Alison Hawthorne Deming, etc., knowing that the words of my dear writer friends will provide the comfort and reprieve I need. Thank you.

    1. An attitude like that is trying, especially because I know your heart Diane. I know as well that you’ll rise above it, and I’m honoured be a small part of that. Thank you for taking the time to read and respond with kindness and insight.

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