May you wake with a sense of play,
An exultation of the possible.
May you rest without guilt,
Satisfied at the end of a day well done.
May all the rough edges be smoothed,
If to smooth is to heal,
And the edges be left rough,
When the unpolished is more true
And infinitely more interesting.
May you wear your years like a well-tailored coat
Or a brave sassy scarf.
May every year yet to come
Be one more bright button
Sewn on a hat you wear at a tilt.
May the friendships you’ve sown
Grown tall as summer corn.
And the things you’ve left behind,
Rest quietly in the unchangeable past.
May you embrace this day,
Not just as any old day,
But as this day.
Held in trust
In a singular place,
As we begin the rituals of a new year, whether in passive hopes for better things or with more active intentions to shape our lives, I do find it helpful to have a poem in my pocket to remind me of what’s important.
I’ve always appreciated the opening phrase of ‘may you’ which offers possibilities – in this case of play, the possible, guiltlessness. And don’t you love the idea of smoothing the rough edges when it brings healing and leaving them rough When the unpolished is more true / And infinitely more interesting.
I may just have to start sewing buttons on my hat with each year yet to come, to go with the coat and scarf. And I know my friendships are a vast field of tall summer corn, healthy and abundant. It’s good to be reminded that the things we’ve left behind can Rest quietly in the unchangeable past.
Finally, we are called to embrace this day as our own, Held in trust / By you, / In a singular place, / Called now. Each day, held in trust, to hold, to spend, to treasure, to return to the present moment over and over. May it be so for all beings.