Keep going, don’t give up”, I read.
Yet keeping going today
looks something like,
closing and opening my eyes,
and turning over to my other side
Progress is sometimes measured
in the smallest increments.
My not giving up today
was perhaps seen
in the leap of my heart
at the tui and fantail on the branches
beyond my window’s ledge.
Sometimes progress is measured by the reach of our vision,
beyond the place we now rest.
Who is asking that we maintain our pace?
To rest is to regain the strength to rise.
Before we release a breath,
we must breathe in the oxygen we need.
Yes, our hearts,
they beat to the measure of our supplies.
So sometimes not giving up
looks like curling into a cocoon,
and drawing the blankets in tight.
We might need to tend
and mend ourselves,
as the cat that comes in from the night,
licks at its wounds.
The shelter of the cocoon
provides the supports that aid our healing.
Before we ascend,
we must kneel and bend
to get the uplift desired.
No, we don’t give up,
and keep, however slowly, making ground.
But its not clear cut.
Sometimes ascending looks a lot
like slowing down.
©Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
Ascension Day 2017
Image Ascension, Chris Koelle, by Faith, online magazine of the Presbyterian Church in America
"Begin again. Begin anywhere." – Anam Cara Ministries