Can we truly save anyone?
We might only lose ourselves
in the trying.
Any saving that asks for the shedding
of ourselves –
in small pieces
to shore up another –
is not salvation, so much
as a sad slow fading of light
at the day’s conclusion.
Whereas love, love given,
sometimes in no measurable means
other than the ache
of grief and longing,
or prayerful intent,
or a posture of compassion –
this love is like a seed,
that even when we’ve turned around,
is working quietly
underground,
watered by the heavens.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2021