Some say
that they,
“Thank God
for small miracles.”
But I wonder
if they ever
really notice
the soft breath
of a savior
that turns away
a hurricane?
Do we feel
the whistle and snap
of fates
that come so close
to changing our lives?
Subsumed into the feed,
our senses dulled,
desires pacified.
Can we detect life
in concert?
Cellular synchronicity?
The atomic ballet?
Subtle
was never in our wheelhouse,
we always slipped the whisper,
begging for the yell.
Suffice it to say,
we could hear
no more intonations
beyond the beating
of our own hearts.
Every drop of blood
and every pulse,
a miracle.
HG – 2020
Such a lovely poem 🤩
Thank you.