A Poem: Not Heavy

They are not heavy,
the seasons of change,
which pass
like the passing weather.

We can sit outside
and watch the night turn to light,
the clouds give way to emerging day,
to remember this.

On a morning that
the rain fell
and the sun shone her face
in the space of one small hour.

In which,
the birds woke to sing,
I am remind that the important things,
can indeed be depended upon.

For it’s true,
that if the birds wake
and the sun rises,
what else is there to want?

All else passing ships
that we can grasp at,
or watch process
across the blue.

No, they are not heavy,
the seasons of change.
Not like the load of those things
we are meant to hold.

Like this good book now
open upon my lap,
and the jasmine’s weight
against the fence.

Ana Lisa de Jong
November 2017



He lies like an eyewitness.
~ Russian Proverb

~ Do not grasp at that which is only passing through.

Image: Oswaldo Martinez, courtesy of Unsplash
Los Planes de Renderos, San Salvador, El Salvador

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