A strong wind came yesterday, surprising me,
rolling confidently across the pastures and winding roads,
calling to me, singing its enchanted song,
awakening me with anticipation, news of things to come.
Oh yes, she whispered, I am here again,
rolling across the open fields of your life.
I am, after all, she says, chanting now,
just a fairy, a spirit.
Why are you here?, I ask.
She wraps herself around me, caresses me,
Oh, to dance she said. To do the dance.
Oh, and yes, she whispers, softly, I may bring the gift of grief to you,
if you are alive, conscious, able to feel and receive it.
And she didn't need to tell me that grief has many gifts,
the gift of love, it's brother,
the gift of connection,
the gift of meaning.
Grief is a teacher, experienced, strong.
You pilgrims, out there,
reading this, you all know the
gift of grief, have felt it,
have been opened by it,
as much or more as me.
In our disconnected world, grief
connects us, reminds us that we are,
when all is said and done, for all our foolishness,
the same thing. One thing.
The wind embraces me, touches me,
opens me and whispers to me, flirting with me.
She loves me, after all. Oh yes,
I am coming, she says, to make you feel,
to tell you that you are alive,
that you can love. And be reminded
of all the joy and beauty in the world.
Death is not different than life, she says,
winking at me. It is the same thing, silly man.
And then the wind roared, and then quieted to a whisper.
Ssssssh, she says. Sssssssh. I love you so much. Be still.
Choose life, she sings. Choose life.
I smile, and bow to her.
I am a bit afraid, shy.
I ask her. Will you dance with me?