Photo by Fedor Sidorov

Beyond the east windows
three birches reflect and refract the sunlight,
bright or baffled, that fills the room
where we sit, in outward silence
and inner distraction or distress, waiting
for the stillness that soothes and frees our souls.

Some sit only with the present company
while others call on Spirit and departed saints.
All seek the inner light and find ashes
or embers, and sometimes a flame
that leaps upward and out.

When we remember
where we are and who we are
we breathe in hope, we breathe out love
for ourselves, for each other,
for the whole suffering and glorious world.

James Hannon

James Hannon’s work as a psychotherapist informs his poems, which have appeared recently in Amethyst Review, Psaltery and Lyre, and Pensive: A Global Journal of Spirituality and the Arts. His second collection, To My Children at Christmas, was published in 2022 by Kelsay Press. He is a member of Friends Meeting at Cambridge (Mass.).

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