I’ve been rereading my writing from the past few years during this time of Covid-19. I’m throwing out what I don’t like and whittling down my notebooks. This week I came upon a poem I’d written in 2015 that I had forgotten since it was lost amidst a mountain of writing. It resonated for me in this incredible and shocking time. I’ve placed it with an oil painting I made over ten years ago. Here they are.
We are walking in a garden we are blind to
though it bears our names.
And the suffering,
the suffering is great,
but the unveiling of the heart is greater.