I find my resurrections

From dark, lonely, dreary tombs

Of fear, separation and loss

In the mockingbird that sings joyfully while playing hide and seek in the holly bush.

In the thread of a text with beloved sisters who hear my cry.

In the empathetic, sympathetic melodies of a piano and strings.

In the chit chat and giggles of nurses attending to my wellbeing.

In the routine, soothing hum of a ferry ride on the river

   whisking me gently to and from a mandatory destination

   and the familiarity of home base.

In the blooms on the magnolia – echo, echo, echo – of my childhood home.

In the swirling dervish of cherry blossoms relinquishing their turn to budding greenery.

In the relief that the tears lurking behind my eyes and within my heart are not all that I feel,

If not outright joy, then glimmers of tranquility

That bring small, yet encouraging, Resurrections, again and again

Susan Ceely Phillips