This year, I just don’t feel that one resurrection is sufficient. Don’t we need to encourage one another to keep bouncing back, to keep unfolding and bringing forth what we can? Sure, it’s been an exhausting year. Yet, after reclining, I say—resurrect again and again.
Mary Oliver offers this image in her poem, “Poppies”:
The poppies send up their/orange flares; swaying/in the wind, their congregations/are a levitation/of bright dust, of thin/and lacy leaves.
There isn’t a place/in this world that doesn’t/sooner or later drown/in the indigos of darkness/but now, for a while/the roughage/shines like a miracle/as it floats above everything/with its yellow hair.