There is something adorning me all the time, and I sometimes forget until I look in the mirror and see her. Her name is Grace. I see her when I see the brown eyes and the smile – or tears on the cheeks. I hear her when I can find no silent place to sit. I know her when I look upon those whom I love and remember those who have lost, and I visit her when I am most sad.
When I am angry though, when I am angry! She rushes to lay herself across my shoulders and she smells of lavender and jasmine, and she whispers to me that there is no one to blame.
How natural it is for tides to turn, for forests to clear and trees to fall, for winds to rage and destroy, for darkness to fall, for superior human beings to fail, and for death to reign over life. How natural for lesser human beings to single out an evil cause and someone to blame.
How natural, after millenia, after exhale and inhale, after long night, for light to come, and for laughter and music to dance and fill spaces in the human heart.
How natural for the world as we know it, to portray the imaginings of our own minds, and for grace to curve around our necks softly like feathers, forgive, and forever live.