I was sitting with my friend
and her beautiful broken heart
in a memorial garden
we’d recently built for her.
Together in the willowy morning light, we passed the smooth pebbles of loss back and forth between us,
quietly sharing their weight.
We spoke little; simply enjoying the stillness and each other.
From behind her house, where dappled light flickered through thick woods, flew a hummingbird.
His tiny wings carried him quickly
toward us, as if on a mission. He stopped and hovered directly in front of us, eye level and unwavering. We watched for longer than we could hold our breaths, transfixed.
I felt suspended, my own soul fluttery with lift, as if hummingbird wings sliced right through the cords that keep my feet earthbound. Then came a tugging on the cork of my soul… like a thorn pulled from tissue grown thick
with “I’m fine-ness”.
Slowly….slowly…..the notion that my small life was escaping Love’s healing notice seemed eased
from my mind. Gently yanked out. With a slight and muffled “pop” a thick, dewy fragrance swooshed into the space that had been occupied by my good-little-trooper stoicism.
Not the manic “I think I can, I thinkI can” kind.
The “I can relax because I’m already loved and can’t mess this up”
kind of deep down settledness.
I joined the cherry tree in releasing my sadness.
The hummingbird stayed
while heaven tattooed his outline on my heart.
Time has filled in the lines, adding bold strokes of color.
I play with the idea of letting it spill out onto my shoulder this winter
…..a real tattoo.
To match the one in my heart
of hummingbird hope.