Old walls
Stand strong
The test of time
It touches all
Some pieces crumble
And fall away
But the center holds
The center holds
Fast against the weight
It dares to last
The old walls
Rise from solid earth
And all around
New life brings new light
Bright again
Old walls
Tell the tale
Of many moments made one
And become part of
The halls of history
For each and all
When I was born
six weeks too early, too tiny,
and before I even had a name,
they took bets on whether I’d make it.
I made it.
I’ve always made it,
every moment of every day,
even when I shouldn’t have,
when I should have failed,
I’ve made it.
And I’ve made it good.
So I tell people:
Don’t bet against me.
Underestimate me and
just wait and see
what happens.
Because I made it, and I’ve made it, and I’ll make it.
I am my own hero,
my own knight in shining armor,
my own deus ex machina,
my own miracle.
I am unstoppable,
unflappable,
unembarrassed,
unashamed,
and unconcerned with those who’d doubt me.
I made it.
Even when it’s impossible (nothing’s impossible),
when it’s too dark to see (there’s always light),
when the game seems lost (life’s not a game):
Whatever you do,
don’t bet against me.
The cold moon ushers in the New Year –
full of promise,
flanked by worry and doubt and fear,
but new nonetheless, and fresh and free.
May we all see dreams made real,
time and touch and love,
and may we be happy.
May we take this year and make it
what we want and need,
and may we do what we can do.
May we happen,
and not get happened to.
The New Year opens the door.
May we all walk through.
Winter begins with a promise each year:
It only gets brighter from here.
Delicate and slow
Snowflakes descend from gray skies
And turn the world bright
*******
In rhythm with life
Like white petals on a breeze
Fragile crystals fall
*******
Powder coats the ground
Soft like sweet icing sugar
Dessert for the eyes
*******
This new snow globe world
Brief and fleeting as a breath
Fantasy made real
*******
I love snow. I’ve always loved snow. I like the way that life slows down when it snows. I like the reminder that fragile things – tiny, delicate things – like snowflakes, can have a huge impact and tremendous power.
A December snowstorm is a truly rare thing here in Virginia. The forecast has changed several times over the last hours, so I’m not sure how much snow we’ll get today, but I can tell you one thing:
I will enjoy every single millimeter and every single moment of it.
For days and days,
we watch.
And we wait –
for the cold snap,
the good pattern,
full clouds and low pressure,
the track and the timing,
elements that must come together.
Warm breath on the crisp air,
red noses, chilly fingers,
hats and gloves
and hot chocolate in hand,
we watch and we wait
for the delicate promise
of the season’s first snow.
Of course the big picture is beautiful.
It’s made up of a million little miracles –
small victories
and delicate pieces.
Beautiful all on their own,
these fundamental fragments,
and meaningful
not because they are part of something larger.
Just because they are.
“You can’t,”
said the Head.
“You can,”
said the Gut.
“You must,”
said the Heart.
Light and Shadow:
We are made of both,
and we choose how they balance.
Each moment a call –
to break or create,
arms or alms,
hate or a hand,
action or none.
This power is ours.
Light or shadow,
growth or fallow,
only we choose.
I am under construction –
a permanent, perennial project,
a living labor of love.
A marvel of miraculous engineering
made up of moments and memories,
I am a fleeting, faltering, and flawlessly full of faults
dawdling, dauntless daydreamer.
A confounding collection of curiosities,
a cacophonous convergence of creation,
I am proud to be
(persistently)
(profoundly)
perfectly imperfect.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 