I am Blessed
This Is Still a Blessing
A poem by Nathan Shenton
Life.
It creeps up on me in quiet hours,
in stillness,
in reflection.
As a father, I feel it —
that guttural, overwhelming love
that clings to my ribs like breath held too long.
And with it,
the fear.
The fear that all of this
is more fragile than I let myself believe.
Delicate.
Uncontrollable.
Slipping between my fingers,
no matter how tight I hold on.
I read a story today —
a child, sick, fading.
Parents clinging to hope
that won't hold.
And I felt it crash through me:
Grief.
Fear.
Guilt.
Guilt for every moment I’ve been short,
for every tantrum that tested me,
for every sigh I let out
when I should have leaned in.
Because somewhere,
a parent would give anything
to pick up that toy again.
To wipe that messy mouth.
To argue over nothing
just to have something.
I forget sometimes:
I’m blessed.
Even in the noise.
Even in the chaos.
Even in the long, hard evenings
when I just want silence —
This is still a blessing.
We build our lives
like they stretch forever,
like we’ve been promised decades.
But we haven’t.
And maybe we need to feel that sometimes.
To let it shake us.
Wake us.
Ground us.
So we can return to the moment —
the only moment that’s ever really ours.
When the going gets tough,
when my patience wears thin,
when I forget:
This is still a blessing.
Right now is still a gift.
We are blessed
to be breathing.
To be reading.
To be feeling.
Don’t wait for the tragedy
to recognise the beauty.
Don’t wait for loss
to remember how to love.
Hold it close.
Right now
is the miracle.