The headlines remain dark. The glimmers of light seem few.
I’ve not yet stumbled on my Lent reading of the psalms; there’s more comfort there than in the news. Words written millennia ago seem fresh and appropriate. Day 10, today, I read yet more words of lament: Why do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? But there’s words of reassurance and encouragement too, the psalmist speaking out that evil will not prevail.
It was just over a year ago that presidential poet, Amanda Gorman, inspired us all with her powerful words: For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it. Contemporary echoes of poetic hope emerged from the radio again this morning. Our much loved poet laureate, Simon Armitage, read his new poem ‘Resistance’. It ends with hope: An air raid siren can’t fully mute cathedral bells. Let’s call that hope.
My walk today took me, in spring sunshine, to the writing group. A place where we can celebrate our freedom to speak out. A place of much chatter as we set the world to rights.
I was distracted in the class by a WhatsApp message. A reminder that this is the weekend of a particularly hilly ‘just 10k’ that I’ve run before. Back in 2020, it was cancelled as pandemic began to affect daily life. Entries were rolled over to 2021, then delayed another year.
This year, my knees said no. Just don’t do it. So I won’t. That said, they are well rested now and they’ve managed two short, and fairly level, runs. With care, they may climb that hill again. There’s always hope.