Death has always been an invitation
to inhabit the celebration
of this irreplaceable instant.
We plan and hope and fear
but death has always been here.
It’s the inevitable destination
of our vocation as embodied beings.
It’s the blessing in disguise
that helps us realize
the power of the present.
We look to the future for transformation
hoping that the next job or degree
will ease our misery
or help us contribute more fully to society.
But we are already irrevocably whole.
Only in the present can we plant a tree
or comfort a crying baby.
Only in the present can I tell you
how much you mean to me.
Only in the present can we be
the hands and hopes of divinity.
Tomorrow has never been a guarantee.
But it is precisely the uncertainty
of our individual and collective destiny
that kindles our capacity
to be fiercely and tenderly planted
in the only time we ever have.
When we land here and now
we remember how all the people we have known
have grown into our understanding.
And suddenly we are standing
with all of humanity,
certain of our capacity
to surrender to love.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.
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