One Difficult Week

This week has felt very dark, and on Thursday I was listening, as I do in good times and in bad, but perhaps most often when I'm in need of something somber and reflective, to Leonard Cohen.

And no one knows where the night is going...

If it be Your will...

The songs played in my car. Then I got home and my husband said, "Didn't you hear? Leonard Cohen died today.

And in the times we find ourselves, I found this poem of Cohen's. And I'd like to share it, because it speaks to my artist's soul:

The Only Poem

This is the only poem
I can read
I am the only one
can write it
I didn’t kill myself
when things went wrong
I didn’t turn
to drugs or teaching
I tried to sleep
but when I couldn’t sleep
I learned to write
I learned to write
what might be read
on nights like this
by one like me

From The Energy of Slaves, 1972