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.
