Otherwise

"In the Kitchen" Brita Granström

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Jane Kenyon

from Poems to Live By in Uncertain Times, Joan Murray 

I've had a couple of events happen recently that made me realize just how close we are to having things be "otherwise". It's something worth reflecting on, that the things we did and saw and people we spent time with - might have been otherwise. That car might not have stopped in time, it might not have been so easy to move or take a breath. I hate cooking dinner? But my arms and hands work well together, and I have food to cook. These are tremendous gifts. Kenyon goes through the small events of her day as if counting her blessings. That's what counting blessings means - seeing clearly that things might be otherwise.

Let Evening Come

Herbert Waters, "Les Smith's Barn"

Let Evening Come

Let the light of late afternoon

shine through the chinks in the barn, move

up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing

as a woman takes up her needle

and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned

in long grass. Let the stars appear

and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.

Let the wind die down. Let the shed

go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop

in the oats, to air in the lung

let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't

be afraid. God does not leave us

comfortless, so let evening come.

Jane Kenyon

A friend shared this poem with me the other day. I fell instantly in love. It reads like a benediction. The words fall assuredly into place, the images clear in my mind's eye. Its as if there could have been no other words chosen, these are so true and fitting. Kenyon may have meant it to be about aging, but I don't feel that so much as I feel its call to just Be. That word "let" in itself - at once an imperative and a submission, a command and an acceptance - is compelling.  Every image is restful. Things left undone, things taken up again, quietness, darkness - and behind it all this sense of assurance in spite of unknowns to come. Beautiful. I could go on and on.