Let Us Begin

I offer this poem for weary hearts,
for those standing beside cold ashes,
unsure if joy can ever rise again.

This is a poem for the day after we thought we were lost.

A Vespers Blessing : Let us Begin

Begin
by listening to the gentle hand on your shoulder,
the warmth that whispers into the heavy:
“I’m here. I see you.”

And in that hush,
where breath remembers breath,
let love press its forehead to yours
and name you whole.

Still rain,
still grief,
still mourning—
Love says,
“Still here.”
Till you are still,
still,
still.

Begin where love stayed
when even your mourning felt unnamed.
When you forgot there is morning,
the finches remembered for you.
A little robin,
heart full of fire,
kept your ember tucked into his song.

They sing—not to fix, not to rush—
but to hold you,
feather-soft,
until your breath begins again.

And the wind,
gentler than you feared,
lifts you—
not from duty,
but from drowning.

Toward the sky
that has waited patiently
for you to remember:
You were made to rise.
You were made to sing.

To sing in the storm.
To sing to the storm.
To sing because
you have carried the sorrow so long,
and now—
you let it fall
into music.
Into love.

Love that catches you.
Love that cups your face and says,
“Look how you shine
when you think no one sees.”

When the thunder returns—
because it always will—
Love will be the stillness inside it.
Not to silence it,
but to stay with you through it.

And when you lift your hand
to touch the weight,
you will find the Holy One’s palm already there—
resting gently on the back of your neck,
fingertips whispering into the ache:
“I remain here, too.”

Let us begin,

again and again in love.

Created after reflecting on Psalm 30 and my community’s experience after Hurricane Helene.