In less than a week
we’ll be into the new year.
Today, the rains came,
as if on a mission, as if
they were sent to wash away
the rubble of the passing year:
the shards of suffering and anger,
of pain and fear and loss–
everything false–
to dissolve it completely,
leaving nothing behind
but swaths of truth and faith
and goodness, stretches
of miracles and healing,
and reaching for connection,
the unspeakable beauty,
everything–and only those things–
born of absolute love.
I smile at the dream
and watch the raindrops
with their upside-down
reflections of the world
slide down the window pane
the way that sands glide
through an hour glass.
Next week, it will already be
the next year.