Poem: Even the Smallest Acts


Even in the Smallest Acts

A single brush falls
to the canvas-covered floor.

It lies in the dust and dirt.

You reach down, pick it up,
and set it with its brothers in the jar.
ready to paint again.

A simple act of redemption,

in the scheme of a larger life
so full of madness.

But that is what life has become.

Smaller. More intimate.
Quiet moments of reflection
even in the smallest acts.

About this poem

Life has become smaller in the time of coronavirus. Most of us are restricted to home, our work, our city streets, even our churches are suddenly dangerous. I have found myself assigning meaning to the smallest things, because in a smaller world, they are not small at all.  Anything that affects our thinking has power.

Even dropping a brush.



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