Julie Stuckey
Often times, what begins as a piece addressing some thought or intention, ends up being quite different. The idea of “enough” was a strong pull here – we do, and are, enough. A letter of blessing for a child or loved one, a self-benediction, a calling back and remembering goodness.
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Landscape of Blessings
It is enough now, my dear one, remember.
They will always return when sky darkens deeply,
like sparrows amassing in bushes at dusk,
like star-points appearing in blackening sky.
They will draw near to nestle in hymn and in song,
like gathering strains into lullaby hum,
like faint shadows reaching at close of day.
They call out your name in faintest of whispers,
a windsong of rustling leaves,
a delicate falling of snowfall in pines.
Breathless, they mingle, rustling like grasses,
their murmur and mumble and moan
a faint music cleansing the time-worn sky.
Like row upon row of words on a page,
like raindrops dripping from trees,
it’s enough when you pause and listen,
enough when you sigh back in rest. Like the hushed
time of vespers, like bee-buzz, like laughter,
like balm of sun’s warmth on your face.
They gather in haloes, they cover in lightness,
they wrap in a mantle of grace.
Enough then, my dear one, remember, enough.
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Julie Stuckey grew up in Pennsylvania, graduated from the University of Delaware in business and currently lives in Pawling, New York. Her poems have appeared online and in print in Apropos Literary Journal, Ardent, Blast Furnace, Prairie Wolf Press Review, Seven Hills Review, Shark Reef, Verdad, among others, and in anthologies from Little Red Tree Publishing and From Under the Bridges of America. She has received Finalist or Honorable Mention in several contests.