A few folks have asked me recently why I had stopped writing. Perhaps it was the darkness of winter that had seeped deep into my bones resulting in a tiredness that weakened me. Or, perhaps it was a winter sleepiness that, like a cloud of scentless poison, had lulled me into a dull haze. I am not entirely sure. It just felt that my small voice was no match for the looming issues facing us all.
Such issues as homelessness which seems to have grown into a global pandemic matched only by the surreal numbers of accidental overdoses and both pale in comparison to the global environmental catastrophes reported daily.
It all had silenced me.
Until early in spring, before dawn one morning I heard this lone bird singing a thin melody. I stepped out in the predawn darkness searching skyward; no other bird had joined the song and yet, it continued to sing. Something in its refrain struck a chord deep within me, encouraging me to rise again and join my simple voice against the darkness.
This courageous birdsong reminded me that there is still some worthiness in this worn out world. There is beauty, kindness, and goodness still be found; the world hasn’t gone entirely to rot.
My voice may rise in a whisper offering little wisdom except the observation of what beauty I find. As I recently read, “We do not see the world as it is, we see it as we are.”
May we all reside within a place that hears the little bird singing in the darkness of a beautiful world.
