I’m listening to Will Ackerman’s the Sound of Wind Driven Rain.
The open tuning guitar melodies soaring
Take me to a place where the spirit turns joyfully
And yet here, in our bodies, we cannot rise to the aspirations
Of the Unconditional Love we know exists.
We can see it, we can hear it, we long for it
But we fail.
Hearts are broken.
Time rusts us and covers us in barnacles.
The lost dreams come back to us only in memories and fragrance
And music.

Today we grieve again for our country.
The celestial heavens above us turn in exquisite beauty
That we simply cannot seem to reach.
The Love which formed each one of us
Shapes our very fingers
But escapes from our grasp, unfinished, and unexpressed
Our moment slips away
Like a toddler, suddenly a teenager
Eagerly rushing forward in time
While we stay behind
Blessing them
Hearts aching.

11/19/2021

Deb Pierce McCabe