Blessings
What a gift it is
to write
when the heavens
are forsaken,
a darkening phantom
casting my ship
at bay
What a gift it is
to hear
the calling of the songbirds,
singing
despite the hollows
of the dawn,
the caverns of the morning
Who would I become
if I did not
count my blessings,
I welcome every breath
and ground myself in strength
What a gift it is
to taste
the gleam of restoration,
shining like a sun
that bleeds
without surrender
If I did not welcome dawn,
I would succumb to
suffering
If I did not embrace love,
I would fall into fear
What a gift
I’m granted here
to trust the world will heal,
for there is always
one more chance,
there is always
one more
blessing