This evening I was listening to one of my favorite albums by Conspirare, A Company of Voices: Conspirare in Concert, led by artistic director Craig Hella Johnson.
There is something about that body of music that feels suspended above the noise. Clean. Centered. Almost celestial.
The piece that moved me tonight was their rendition of I Love You-What a Wonderful World.
It is gentle in a way that sneaks up on you. It does not argue. It does not shout. It simply reminds.
If you have a moment, take a chance and listen to it.
Because as I sat there letting those voices fill the room, I felt something rise up in me. Not just personal grief. Not just memory. But that collective heaviness many of us have been carrying. The kind you cannot always name. The kind that sits quietly behind your ribs.
It reminded me of a poem I wrote ten years ago.
Reading it now, it feels like it belongs to this moment. Maybe it always did. It speaks to that space where heartbreak and hope coexist. Where isolation meets sky. Where the night is real, but so are the stars.
I want to share it with you…
Even in the Night
by C.E. Strong
Night came
without asking.
It always does.
It wrapped itself around my shoulders
like a truth
I did not want
but could not refuse.
My heart,
torn open.
Not delicate.
Not poetic.
Just tired.
Still, I walked.
No lantern.
No map.
Only stars.
Little burning reminders
that light survives
distance.
They did not rush me.
They did not promise morning.
They simply stayed.
I thought about hearts then.
How every one of them
breaks in the same language.
It does not matter
what face it wears,
what country it beats in,
what pride protects it.
A broken heart
is a broken heart.
And yet
it keeps beating.
That is the miracle.
The night pressed in,
yes.
But it did not swallow me.
Because somewhere between
my grief
and the sky
was a thin, stubborn thread
of hope.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just present.
And I realized
darkness is not chasing me.
It is revealing
what shines.
So I walk.
With shadows beside me
and stars above me.
Knowing
that whatever kindness
I cannot see yet
is already
on its way.
Maybe that is what we are all doing right now.
Walking through a night we did not choose.
Trying to remember that even if our hearts feel bruised, fractured, misunderstood, they are still beating. And if they are beating, there is still a flicker. Still a possibility. Still something luminous above us.
Maybe hope is not loud. Maybe it is simply the decision to keep walking.
And maybe, even now, even here, even with everything that feels undone, it is still possible to look up and whisper, what a wonderful world.
What has been your star lately, the small light that helped you keep walking?
(Photo by Timothée Duran / Unsplash.)
P.S. more Poetry:
*How Are You Really Feeling This Winter?
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