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

In the fear that my mistakes may cost more
than I can ever help to pay,
that I 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 quick become despair,
a bud burns still inside to open
to sizzle and surge and batter through rock
and shriek life back into all that died.

In the stabbing glare of all I 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
I must.

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

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

“And in great decay comes great renewal.
Life finds a way out
of the darkest spots.”
– Tyler Knott Gregson