On a morning in late January the first year after Marianne died, I was taking the usual walk that Marianne and I took together so many times, walking hand-in-hand. I felt her presence, as if she were walking beside me now even though we were on different planes. Words started to come together in my mind, and when I returned home I wrote down this poem.
Together Together we walk, my love Together we see the bright crocus Promise of spring to come Together we feel the wind in our face The joy of the open air A stirring in our hearts A sense of happiness and rightness We are glad to be here and to be together. Ego knocks on the door We smile and say go away Fear comes calling, you will lose the words We are not concerned. It is feelings, not words Silence, not the sound The present moment, not the treasury of times past The magic and mystery of our life The awe and wonder of our life to come We are together now and always We’ve only just begun.
This morning I took our familiar walk and again saw crocus. It felt right to re-post the poem in honor of Valentine’s Day.