I drove home tonight in the glow of a full moon, like a pearl shining, like a marble with a rough place where the man in the moon peeks out. The moon teaches us that things aren’t always what they seem–if they ever are at all.
Last week I dreamed about my father. He was alive again (although the seventh anniversary of his death will soon pass). Strong, walking around, talkative, cheerful. I woke up smiling.
Some years ago a poet I knew in Austin fell and hit his head and hours later, died. Beauty silenced. His words have lived in my head for years.
So kiss your husband, hug your child, feed your dog. Cross yourself when the next ambulance passes.
How are we to understand?
Just this: Only because of the greater light of the sun can we see the beautiful moon at all.
And this: Only an infinitely more tender love and mercy, beyond all our knowing, releases us to touch each other, in hope, with unforgettable joy.