We struggle, we grow weary, we grow tired.
We are exhausted, we are
distressed, we despair, we give
up, we fall down, we let go.
We cry. We are empty,
we grow calm, we are ready.
We wait quietly.

A small, shy truth arrives.
Arrives from without and
within. Arrives and is born.
Simple, steady, clear. Like a
mirror, like a bell, like a flame.
Like rain in summer. A precious
truth arrives and is born within
us. Within our emptiness.

We accept it, we observe it,
we absorb it. We surrender
to our bare truth. We are
nourished, we are changed,
we are blessed.

FILE PHOTO BY JOHN W. OLSON

We rise up.

— Michael Leunig
relayed to us by John and Connie Lyle O’Brien

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