The night my son died
I was companioned by a song—
as if a record player had broken
or as if the angels of love and grief
could agree on only one song to sing.
Deep Peace, I heard,
unable to remember
a single other word to the song.
Deep peace. La la la la la la la.
Deep peace. La la la la la la la.
All night the two syllable lyric
infused itself into my blood,
tattooed itself into my heart,
invited me over and over and over
to let myself be found
by the peace that is always here.
Since that night, the song
attunes me to each moment.
I hum it while doing dishes,
while paying bills, while folding clothes.
I hum it when praying.
When weeping. When alone.
When I wake in the night and feel again
that clenching around my heart.
When I don’t know where to start.
Deep peace as I rest on the shores
of uncertainty. Deep peace
as the waves pull me back in.