Life persists, even in the bombed-out rubble, after the hurricane, in the midst of betrayal or illness or loss. Always something manages to grow and thrive and bring a shocking beauty to the devastated scene.
When have you found beauty or new life in the midst of destruction?
My mom lived to, as they say, a ripe old age. She needed my care and that of others but I could still communicate clearly with her, sometimes reading poems to her when she was too tired to talk. The night that she died, in the early morning hours, I stepped outside the house and saw the beauty of the remaining stars in the sky as the sun was bringing the light back into the world and even, with the loss of a dear mother-friend, I felt a compelling sense of peace.