Palm Sunday & Pussy Willows, Poetry, my Anniversary, & the Day I was Born

"He was my North, my South, My East, My West, My working week and my Sunday Rest"

A.H. Auden (from the book-About Grief)

"Poets touch things that are difficult to touch, things like the indignities of grief, and in so doing, reteach them their loveliness ." (from -About Grief,by Ron Marasco & Brian Shriff)

Poignant words do not always attest to the facts of truth. And search for truth we must.

The everyday, the simple, ordinary moments. The space between the lines.

The silence between the notes.

For it is in these simple, ordinary moments that we create the truth in our lives.

And this truth is based upon the sacred details, that once gone, make up a life.

What is held dear, this is what translates from one person to another.

From one generation to the next.

And then the poignant moments appear, as if in an instant to clarify our emotions and values

that we hold dear.

Some people never have these moments, and isn't that a shame?

Why cannot we learn to cherish the ordinary, to be satisfied with taking out the trash,

when we share chores with family, when we share roles in life at work or amongst friends?

For after all, life is in the living, and dieing is in the details of life remembered.

Are we not all an experiment? Life to each is an experiment.

What propels someone to cherish the ordinary if their life has been full of chaos, disarray, anger, lack of love?

Please tell me that you can help another in time, in life, or perhaps with just a smile

or a word to show that one person at that exact time that there is good in the world.

Seek and ye shall find. Ask, and you shall receive.

Search for truth, no matter what in all you do,

and even the simplest among us can change the world.

I'd rather go down trying, then living without the hope of any real truth.

The world would not make sense if there was no God.

And even the least among us can find hope, faith, God in the smallest details of the day.

Would that I could elicit a wealth of care that transcends generations and cultures.

For maybe, I have something to say that you want to hear.

When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

I am the student, and the teacher is life.

I am the student and the teacher is God.

3/23/ll Lydia

Happy Palm Sunday. I was born on Palm Sunday. And today is my anniversary. It would have been 28 years. And did you know that in Russia, they didn't have palms, so they received pussy willows on Palm Sunday? Today my aunt and uncle brought in fresh pussy willows from their yard for all the church. What a treat. I love pussy willows. And, did you know that there is a black pussy willow? I just found that out this year at a flower and garden show in March.

Blessings to all.