The queue for bread gets impatient.
Baskets are bursting under the weight of shopping.
Cars are stifling in traffic jams.
Easter. Holidays again.
You have to take a stand. You have to get ready.
You have to go visit. Or stay, maybe.
Out of joy, out of decency, out of duty.
There’s no time to spare, no time to spare.
Click, clock, click, clock, heels on the sidewalk.
Where is the time?
The great absentee … gazing at the flowers growing in pots. Pansies, crocuses, daffodils …
A river stretching lazily in the rays of the sun.
A blackbird collecting building material for its new flat.
A plum tree, dressed up for a wedding, scattering its delighted petals into the wind.
Grass growing into my staring feet.
May all the sentient beings be happy and at peace.
May my thoughts, words and actions contribute to this.
Riya’s voice goes straight into my soul.
Its message does not know religion, race or age.
A message for the times of cathedrals burning and oceans dying.
Times of teachers on strike and bees going extinct.
I breathe. I breathe.
I inhale deeply the Life returning.
Love that can dissolve the greatest darkness.
Faith that it all makes sense.
*Photo courtesy of Mabel Amber @pixabay