A Year On
En hierva de primavera nos convertimos
What is time when love and memory are eternal? Pages on the kitchen's calendar; the flickering of dates on screens.
It is all about "having the courage to continue", as I remember the poet & the thinker talk about, discuss distance as bodies in spirits, over the line.
There is no final deadline for grief , no interruption of the ongoing downloads of remembrance. You live on, every day, in hearts & minds, and it is true.
A year on one does need to mark the moment, but it is not like the continuum is not still here, carrying on, as presence, as a way of being.
What is time if not the constant current of becoming, constellations of a million instants taking turns to shine. We grow each season, again & undeterred.
The wisdom of nature takes time to sink in. The soil breaks; it must be painful too. And newness grows. The seeds are everywhere.