A Love Song in the Eye of the Hurricane

 It's so quiet.

Just weeks after Hurricane Irma  devastated 
Florida's SW coast, Nicole's eye passed over us
on the SE coast, thankfully only a Cat. 1.
My writers' group was assigned to write
something tonight about the eye.

Peace, even.

A welcome respite from the unleashed fury 

    only moments ago.

And yet, I know it's temporary.

The back side of the storm approaches with

    unfinished business.

A trick of nature. Life's sarcastic side revealed.

And isn't it always thus?

A crisis descends upon us suddenly and we endure,

    hanging on by fingernails we've bitten to the quick.

The grace is there for every hour and day 

    but when we fall into a fitful sleep that night ...

There's nothing left. The grace, like manna in the wilderness,

    doesn't keep. And then one day --

It's done. The eye of the storm of life passes over

    leaving clear skies, blue skies again,

And all is right with the world.

We dance and laugh, knowing deep down that it won't last.

But in the moment, we delight. We savor. We hope...again...

    that this will last forever, knowing that it won't.

Knowing that it can't but trusting...still...the promises 

    of grace and strength we learned in Sunday School

When we were innocent of hurricanes,

When clouds were simply funny shapes and not the 

    harbingers of doom. The storms will always come.

The storms will always pass.

Everything and everyone are here on loan,

    temporary joys and woes.

So little, really, is permanent, sustained, reliable.

There's God, of course.

There's you.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2022

A Place of Quietness and of Grace

There is a place of  quietness and grace
where kindness reigns, not for an hour
or two, but all the time because of kindnesses
enjoyed, received, returned. A place of
fierceness in its passions, joys, and loyalties,
a place where what is Best is chosen out of
all the many lesser Goods. There is a place
like that, but only in a measure. Not in heaven,
for in heaven kindness is no longer needed.
When every heart is perfect, what need is there
for patience? Not on earth, not in a city or a town,
at least, for few would want to live there. They
might claim to, if expected, but the higher
standard of behavior would be daunting.
Only when two people share a language with
a depth below the surface, whose love and
kindness cannot help but be expressed, is
such a place reality. In moments. For much
longer, in some rare and isolated cases.
I'd like to go there, pitch a tent beside the
sea, and listen to the rain, curled up inside.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014