Even Song

Even when the night dances so dark on your mind
that your peace splinters tears,
when life feels over-budget and overdrawn
but under-spent;
in the ache and stall and prickle
and in the fear that can sit so heavy on a belly
that you freeze clear through to your spine
…even then it is there,  rumbling low,
fluttering hope.

In the fear that your mistakes may cost more
than you can ever help to pay,
that you may have loved much but not well,
may have caused more harm than healing,
more thicket than clearing,
more frustration than good,

that a stray word or exhausted miss
may have broken things so hard
that the
final word
is suffering.

Even there in what could quickly become despair,
a bud burns still inside to open,
to sizzle and surge and batter through rock
and shriek life into all that died.

In the stabbing glare of all you may have wasted
or wandered off from,
there’s an epilogue unwritten still
but swirling always fierce with hope
that won’t let go even when you must.

It rumbles new beginnings,  new pages,  new leaves and buds and seasons,
that what was lost may still be found,
that what was buried may yet live.

That in all of the loss and leaving,
in the dreams that died in the shell,
your heart is safe to lean in to what’s coming,
into the quiet thunder that’s humming
hold steady,
it is well.

“What is this breaking,
this hopeful re-making,
shifting stones,
addressing dry bones,
dizzying me with blessings,
intercepting my grieving
and raising the dead all around me.”
– Enuma Okoro

Happy Springtime,  dear you:)
I’ve been busy living like a farmer and I realize I say that every April or May; it’s as true as ever.
I’ll be back regular now – thanks for being your loving selves with my
dirty,  achy, sunburned,  tuckered out Springtime way.
You are a lovely garden and I plop down grateful in your gentle shade:)


  1. Elephants Child on April 18, 2019 at 6:20 pm

    Love your poem celebrating budburst.
    An event which surprises and delights me each and every year.
    Yes, sometimes pain wrings our hearts and makes our marrow ache but the soft green of hopeful new growth is always there, waiting patiently…

    • jennifer on April 21, 2019 at 7:01 pm

      Budburst:) I love that:)
      Yes, always the surprise….as if life finding it’s way out of cold dark places
      is too much of a dream. Thanks for your kindness and the listening way you hold
      my words, Sue. It’s such a gift and I appreciate:)

  2. JULIA on April 19, 2019 at 6:43 am

    Your words are spilling out over my heart as a beautiful melody of new life. Such a beautiful poem. Hope reign eternal and your poem is so timely. I’m always in awe of those big trees blooming so profusely. What comes to mind is a big burly man holding a newborn and smiling lovingly.

    • jennifer on April 21, 2019 at 6:59 pm

      Grateful that some aliveness found you in these words
      and sending big love to you in the big bloom happening in your world.
      I can only imagine how exciting after a cold Canadian Winter! I love your
      word picture and appreciate the kindness of your share:) Thanks, Julia:)

  3. jeanie on April 19, 2019 at 9:06 am

    You always write to the heart with such honestly, clarity, eloquence that it makes me stop, marvel and read again. Ah, spring. New growth. Hope. One of my favorite words. And Bloom. Yet another.

    • jennifer on April 21, 2019 at 6:57 pm

      Thanks so much, Jeanie, for your generous words. Kind and encouraging.
      Wallowing in the Springing today and, yes, hope.
      Big blessing to you in all of your blooming
      and soon-to-bloom:)

  4. Susan on April 21, 2019 at 9:11 pm

    Your gentle, knowing words lift me up. I always marvel at how spot on your posts are in their timing and how I feel held in our sweet friendship.
    and those glorious images! my heart swells!

    • jennifer on May 19, 2019 at 7:52 pm

      I appreciate your words so big, Susan.
      Tall glass of cold water:)
      Much thanks and big hugs,

  5. Barbara Shallue on July 6, 2019 at 6:51 pm

    I’m finally coming around, playing catch up. Thank you for your words of hope. These words describe that fear so well, and give so much encouragement. I hope all is well with you!

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