Where is grace held? A smattering left in our eyes, a touch left in our walk, where is our dignity now- Can you see it in that person 6 feet away-can you feel that arch of breath now, billowing with each sigh, behind each mask. Or are you careless and let it hang loose as if it didn’t matter? Reckless with life-ours, yours and mine.

We need to heal, We need to mend, We need each other to apprehend
To comprehend
These storms of disconnect
that
discombobulate-
strangulate-
our inner stamens of reserve,
bubbling upwards
A scribe’s hope.
It will fill me
Until
I am no longer
So many things hint at our glory-so many things hint and point to the moon,
An approximation of what it means to be great–
Yes, but what about the grace of the ordinary?
A smile, a wink, a hello
Little oasis of beginnings