Give thanks for Grace.

David walking the cancer clinic's labyrinth

At the Cancer Clinic

by Ted Kooser

She is being helped toward the open door

that leads to the examining rooms

by two young women I take to be her sisters.

Each bends to the weight of an arm

and steps with the straight, tough bearing

of courage. At what must seem to be

a great distance, a nurse holds the door,

smiling and calling encouragement.

How patient she is in the crisp white sails

of her clothes. The sick woman

peers from under her funny knit cap

to watch each foot swing scuffing forward

and take its turn under her weight.

There is no restlessness or impatience

or anger anywhere in sight. Grace

fills the clean mold of this moment

and all the shuffling magazines grow still.

*

This poem personifies grace through a familiar scene.  That is poetry enough to touch our hearts.  However, the last two lines did more for me; they took my breath away.

Many of us have experienced the stilling of waiting room magazines.  Not wanting to pry, we peer under our brows at the afflicted as they go by. We imagine ourselves in their shoes: how would we feel, what would we look like, who would hold us.  Our pages are stilled.  Also, some of us have been the cause of reverent silence.  Either way this is a moment of grace.  Now we can recognize it and give thanks.

May my silent hugs dust your shoulders,

Sonja

PS  May look like dandruff but it’s my hug.  😉