I
On every tree there is a leaf
near or at the end of a branch
that waves the hardest.
It is the one most exposed to the wind.
The tragic leaf.
The one that knows life is full of uncertainty.
It is the first to bear the heat, the first to suffer the frost.
In a storm its vocation is sacrifice.
In age it leads the release.
It is also the leaf that feels most intensely
the grace of a calm day,
and the first to know the mercy of mist
in the quietude of a June dawn.
At the fullness of season its emblem is beauty
and faith in the ongoing mystery.
II
The closest we have to an absolute
is that life is tragic
and that tragedy
is somehow necessary
to bring us to the end
of our personal resources,
where, by grace,
we set out on our true journey
and find the home we had before we were born,
bright and magnificently enlarged.
so very beautiful
Thank you so much adela!
Oh my, this is exquisite! Thank you <3
Thank you Claire!
So lovely!
Thank you Cara!
I really should learn not to read your poems when I’m in public. The older folks in McDonalds might wonder why I’m crying over my McMuffin.
Seriously, so beautiful and, oddly comforting.
You make me smile Joyce. And thank you!
A friend of mine said, “Tragedy happens to all, but misery is optional.”
Thanks Sam.
Every detail cared for, and wisdom offered.
Deane, humbly, I thank you!