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John O'Donohue

For the Interim Time

When near the end of day, life has drained 
Out of light, and it is too soon 
For the mind of night to have darkened things, 

No place looks like itself, loss of outline 
Makes everything look strangely in-between, 
Unsure of what has been, or what might come. 

In this wan light, even trees seem groundless. 
In a while it will be night, but nothing 
Here seems to believe the relief of darkness. 

You are in this time of the interim 
Where everything seems withheld. 

The path you took to get here has washed out; 
The way forward is still concealed from you. 

"The old is not old enough to have died away; 
The new is still too young to be born." 

You cannot lay claim to anything; 
In this place of dusk, 
Your eyes are blurred; 
And there is no mirror. 

Everyone else has lost sight of your heart 
And you can see nowhere to put your trust; 
You know you have to make your own way through. 

As far as you can, hold your confidence. 
Do not allow confusion to squander 
This call which is loosening 
Your roots in false ground, 
That you might come free 
From all you have outgrown. 

What is being transfigured here is your mind, 
And it is difficult and slow to become new. 
The more faithfully you can endure here, 
The more refined your heart will become 
For your arrival in the new dawn.

John O'Donohue (1956-2008) was an Irish poet, author, priest, and philosopher, best known for popularizing Celtic spirituality. 

Debie Thomas:

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