As usual I woke up
feeling sad this morning,
now I am in the garden,
it’s 5.30am, dark, windy and balmy,
and I have thirty delicious
minutes all to myself,
here in nature, here with God,
the only one who knows me
well enough to heal me.
But it’s not really a healing is it?
It’s just that in the sound of the wind
rushing through trees and in the stillness beneath it,
I remember, just for a few moments, who I am.
Not the wounded man, broken by life,
caught between the impossible and the implacable,
depressed and angry at the wrongs meted out to him
and waiting for the sweet release of death,
but a man for whom life and death are unimportant
because they are secondary to love.