The Abundance of Now
tonight, the world may crumble as it pleases, but I am here—
in the flickering terracotta stovelight, watching you make dinner.
tomorrow will carry its own weight, news rolling in like
frothy waves from faraway shores, but tonight—tonight,
I simmer among the lemons and garlic. head-over-heels in love
with the tiniest miracles: timid, rich wonders, often overlooked.
let the pot whistle its old tune, let the onion slices cry—
kitchen humming with the warmth of good things while
I sway to the radio’s soft crackle. outside—ceaseless unraveling,
but here, bones and breath feel holy. I open the windows, let the
brilliant strangeness of the night rush in—ask the breeze
to awaken dormant hearts. it is a hymn of pauses, spaces,
of waiting moments—breaths between what is and what will be.
love calls us here, to notice the abundance that shimmers gently
in the dark. tonight, the world is a place of hunger, ache,
but this meal is warm, so eat—savouring every last bite.
Stefanie Lee is an ambitious young writer from Montréal, Canada. Living with a rare physical disability called Nemaline Myopathy, she is a motivated software engineering student. When she is not writing or studying, she can be found editing her photography or solving crossword puzzles.