I was inspired to share a message of hope for all, as I listened to a TikTok friend and parent share his grief over his son’s death. His youngest child, age 10, and only a few months older than Corrie, took his own life due to bullying at his school. I hear the pain, and see clearly the shock and myself in the father of sweet Sammy.
Last night, John took pictures of the sky above the gardens, and I did, too, after I brought Charles home from his training. I tried to capture the beauty of twilight in just a picture above the Butterfly Garden, but could not get it the way I wanted.
I put it with “Downtown” because it is one of those songs that just pumps me up for the day. I have come a long way from four years ago, and the dips I’ve experienced between then and now. It takes tremendous strength to walk in the shoes I own.
So I say to everyone, in a poem for all of you:
“Awake”
Just as the sky alights at sunset and in the morning of
the ‘morrow, set your soul aflame for the passions you
bear. Asleep they may seem, like the seeds beneath
the soil during winter’s cover, but they call ever slowly:
“Awake, awake, we will awaken.”
Cast off the words from telling tongues who call you
a “fool” and speak against your soul, heart, and mind
for they never knew the depths of you. Do you not
think such tongues have dipped my name into the
flame of days past? I can feel when one withdrawals
their presence and friendship. It is not for us to
prove to them our worth and craftsmanship.
You must arise from the flames alight within you.
Do not say, “I will wait for spring” for no promise
exists that we will again see the awakening of
the green. Dance with all that is in you
when the song plays and voices echo melodies
from a time before we knew fire could consume,
and its light only seemed as majesty.
I have danced in the gardens while I dug in the dirt
covered in summer dust and the damp of autumn
rain. If someone laughs, it is okay because
they never knew the depths of my pain.
I live in the passion; not promises
of a tomorrow
I know not. My mother and father taught me
to never speak with strangers, and of the
‘morrow, I only speak in the hope of light.
Listen not to rumors or how others
drag your name like a person
in the medieval days without
a fair trial or conviction. It is their fixed
condition to only speak ill as if they are creatures
of the deep and know only the dark in which
they see, so you must be the light, and set
your soul aflame for even in the twilight,
the sky whispers, “I will return, and cast
fire across the sky so you know
your passions are alive.”
Your soul will whisper ever slowly:
“Awake, awake, you will awaken.”
Corrie's Season 