A shitty prognosis can feel like a blight,
a dismal cloud obscuring the light.
The dust turns your world into endless night,
droughting your hope and dimming your sight.
But you find within a spring beyond plight,
sweet water flowing with grace and with might.
You steer your body away from your fright
and crawl through the tangle toward something bright.
A ritual journey, a shamanic rite:
You lift up your hand as a place to alight.
The spirit descends and prepares for flight
like a brightly colored and longtailed kite
that launches you up to the “highest height,”
out of the gloaming and into the light.
Spoken with verve and fight, such a delight!! As always ** o **
Kathy-your words are always so insightful and on point to understand what you are going through and letting those of us lucky enough to know you go through it through your eyes. You are the light on this and many other days; including and especially when I was afraid that I would not really be able to work and walk under my own steam. You, your heart and hands healed me.