New Day
After a year of the blinding glare
of garish political shenanigans
and horrifying violence,
this morning, the first day of January
has pulled the fuzzy blanket
of winter fog over its head.
Trembling from nightmares
revealed as memories
of all we lost in twelve months,
our shared resolutions are still
in bed, unable just yet
to face the light of day.
What, then, should we pray for
on this Sunday morning,
the universal Sabbath
of our calendars’ turning?
How should we find hope
in such a time as this?
Maybe, until the fog lifts,
we should sit quietly
each in our own new day,
listening for the windsong
of millions of hearts opening
to bright possibilities
we cannot see but know
without a worthy doubt
are there for the making…
and when the skies finally clear,
let’s rise and find one another.
by Anne McCrady
News Links (find out more): Al Jazeera, NPR, CNN
Audio Link (hear Anne read the poem): SoundCloud
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