To wrap yourself around with blessing
is not to give false comfort.
The heart knows when you are bluffing.
To wrap yourself in trust
is to hold it all in shaking hands,
the contained things and overflowing,
until a safe place is found
to put them down.
To wrap yourself in peace
is not never to trust,
for it does not hurt to try.
But to wrap peace,
protective cloak, around,
is to stand a little undone,
naked in the pelting rain
and wind.
That the things then
that have been felt with fear,
might run in rivulets from the skin.
Even pool a little at the feet
until a way is found
to from them step,
and shake ourselves
in the drying sun.
Yes, to wrap yourself with blessing
is to count.
To close the eyes, bow the head.
For every loss there
isn’t always a substitute.
Again, the heart knows things by feel.
But there is always always something else
arriving with the light.
Or quiet, like a stone collected
on the windowsill
that has not moved.
Yes, we count the things that do not change.
We count the things that have shown themselves worthy.
And we count the things we know come back again.
Like peace does, and faith.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
January 2020
Living Tree Poetry 