a pause

The very word causes me anxiety.

Depression.

I have been there before and think I may be there again.  

Only time will tell.

In the pause, I do not have much say in what my soul is speaking.  

For a few moments of time every day or so, there is clarity.

So, which part is the pause?

our NYC room with a view of the WTC site

Divine Wrath

Adelia Prado

Translated from the Brazilian Portuguese by Ellen Dore' Watson

When I was wounded

whether by God, the devil, or myself

-I don't know yet which-

it was seeing the sparrows again

and clumps of clover, after three days,

that told me I hadn't died.

When I was young,

all it took were those sparrows,

those lush little leaves,

for me to sing praises,

dedicate operas to the Lord.

But a dog who's been beaten

is slow to go back to barking 

and making a fuss over his owner

-an animal, not a person

like me who can ask:

Why do you beat me?

Which is why, despite the sparrows and the clover,

a subtle shadow still hovers over my spirit.

May whoever hurt me, forgive me.

from The Image Journal, No. 65, p. 9