My body aches
For the finite touch
Of The Other
I gasp for air
The silence of flowers in a wild patch of garden, the graceful way of nature giving birth to what was not. Newly sprung forth on the Feast of the one who was sprung forth from earth into heaven, drawing our gaze upwards to the fullness of grace, earth into heaven, body into soul. The Assumption of Our Lady.
The passage of all things is on my mind, all that I treasure in this world. I am passing through. Gifts of Nature fading away, Grace remaining. Word of God enduring.
'Wild at Heart' is the book I came upon in the sitting room at home. Wild is the unmanaged beauty of Ballyloughán, the beach where we swam and played as children, getting roasted by the sun. A brooding beauty. The sombre grey of the sea beneath a vibrant Western sky. Dark and pale blue, brown and orange with a blazing white setting sun at its centre. The song of curlews echoing. I have gone there every day of my quarantine. Mostly in the early morning.
I’m going home tomorrow. This is the longest I’ve been away from my family in 34 years. Seven months now! And there’s an excitement growing in me at the thought of it. It’s like a childhood summertime feeling. I will quarantine alone for the first two weeks and then have time to see family and friends, maybe even be in a bubble where hugs are allowed.