Traveling Light

When I was weeding out tenacious dog-strangling vines in the gardens this morning, I almost missed the light. Isn't it amazing how light travels through things? Like through thin peony petals? Do you see that they look white when the light comes completely through them?

Fortunately, one of my all-time favourite poets, Pádraig Ó Tuama has a thought or two about light. He has been a leader Ireland's oldest peace and reconciliation organisation, Corrymeela Community. His poem, Travelling Light, seems to fit well with our week and with the light in the gardens this morning.

Because sometimes we travel heavy

and those heady times we

can barely

imagine the free body

movement

of dance.

Because sometimes we

travel dark

and from those hard paths we

can’t even

conjure an image of

sunrise

or moonrise

or starlight

or fire.

Because sometimes we

travel solo

and those lonely times we

forget all the others

we’ve travelled with

lovingly

travelled with

home.

Because sometimes we

need to be

travelling lightly

because sometimes were in need of

regular reminding

that light comes in circles

and waves

and small moments

and light

comes to find us

and light comes with hope.

Light comes with hope.