At this threshold, we see
the dreams and griefs dragged behind by this old Year, leaving
like an old, old man who leaves home and knows there’s no return.
Yet, there is only love in us for the twists and turnings of time passed.
And ahead, we see the light and soft head of a newborn Year, tender and still innocent to all that is to come.
It is at this threshold that we sing the old Year to sleep, grateful, so grateful
for its blessings and growth, and the dark
and all it has taken from me to make space for Truth and Life;
all it has given to me as nourishment and nurturing.
And ahead, there is birth that has come in us –
we open to receive,
with more clarity like river water
with more patience like the still stone of a mountain
with less of myself
and more of You
with all I want, and crave, and seek
becoming only Yours and Yours alone.
***
And to end, here’s a poem by David Whyte I love. May you also find your way over water and may this new year find you with hope, awe and love in your heart –
Finisterre
The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,
into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you
as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way
to your future now but the way your shadow could take,
walking before you across water, going where shadows go,
no way to make sense of a world that wouldn’t let you pass
except to call an end to the way you had come,
to take out each frayed letter you brought
and light their illumined corners, and to read
them as they drifted through the western light;
to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;
to promise what you needed to promise all along,
and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water’s edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves.
paraschivaflorescu.com 