I grasp at things.
But only daily.
Right as a softening or expansion emerges,
I think--here it is!
I can do this!
Immediately turning from the truth
Of constant change.
Holding onto a joyful moment,
Is like the earth saying,
"Finally, I did it! A sunrise!"
Only to feel despair,
As the sun goes down again and the emptiness of night surrounds you.
Or maybe what you grasp is an achievement
You've been working toward with time.
And you think. Hurray--at-last--it is here!
Like the earth saying,
"Spring. I knew it would come."
Of course the earth does not say this.
With her gentle wisdom she shines in the morning
Shares her sacred majesty in spring
And moves with grace toward nightfall and winters as well.
Without a whimper of despair to be heard.
Friend, if there were one thing I would like to hold onto most
It is remembering this movement--this impermanence.
By all means delight in the sunrise and spring.
And then stay--
As constant motion is underway
Remember with each sunset, just as it is with each sunrise.
This too shall pass.
Remember with each winter, just as it is with each spring.
This too shall pass.
If you are feeling bold, you might even smile.
I let go again.
But only daily.
Poem by Bronwen Mayer Henry
Painting, "Mountain Blessing," (c) Bronwen Mayer Henry