I wrote this in 2015, and never shared it. I had found a poetry prompts book at our town library’s annual sale and opened it on a random page, expecting to be half inspired, half stunned by instant writer’s block. But a memory was summoned as soon as I came up on this prompt: Write a poem about a thing or event that caused a sudden, dramatic realization about life or self.

The book in question is “The Daily Spark.” It is designed for classroom use, as a series of exercises to motivate students. I feel it is suitable for all lovers of writing, or aspiring writers.

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Here are the words that poured from me, not so much from my head as from my core. I share the context of this memory following the poem.

I struggled, as I’ve struggled time and again.  Just today I toiled over this life I live. Dragging myself to accomplish the smallest task, with pain. I struggled then as I do now, but with less baggage and know-how. 

No faith, no vision, no reason. Lost in a sort of oblivion. Then a chance encounter, a kind new friend, a caring soul. An invitation to the country out on the flat, flat farmland. No hill in sight, just cows and grass and miles and miles at hand. 

One random evening I sat alone, contemplating, almost lost; almost scared. Not prepared. For the full moon in the window, casting its light against the screen. It formed a cross it seemed. It formed a cross, there is no doubt. 

I cried. 

Heathen that I was, I cried. Humbled by the divine blessing. Undeserved. I did not ask, yet I received. I had no faith, yet I believed.

This occurred around 1989. I worked as a properties master for a Quebec summer theater at the time and had become friends with Aubert, an older actor who was as kind to me as he might have been to his own daughter. We had something in common. My mother, also a stage actress, had worked with him many times. She had passed just five years earlier. My life seemed off kilter still, even though I had managed to thrive in one way or another.

During a particularly emotional time, Aubert invited me to spend a few days at his country home, way out among fields and farms; far from the overwhelm of Montreal. Once, during my stay, he had to be away overnight for a voice-over gig back in the city.

That evening, alone in his peaceful country home, I made tea and met the farmer neighbor’s dog on the front porch. A regular visitor, I was told, much to my delight. He snuggled against me. After a long while, I said goodnight and went in to sit on the couch, and continue savoring the easy calm my canine friend had helped me begin to carve out. I gazed out the window.

A full moon greeted me there, the rays forming a cross in the mesh of the screen. I looked twice, sensing a level of awe I had never experienced before. I was pretty much raised an atheist, but something shifted in that instant. In fact, it was as though my entire being came alive, and I remembered something deeply moving.

For the first time in years, even since long before my mother’s death, I felt safe. Embraced. Loved. Supported. Anchored. Divinely uplifted. There was absolutely no way anyone could have convinced me that this was mere coincidence and imagination. Every cell in my body knew better. At the very least, it was the greatest gift. I would even say it was a form of salvation. It’s difficult to explain. And is that even necessary?