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# Renewal
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/renewal/
- Published: 2026-03-23T14:33:07.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-24T20:10:25.000Z
- Description: “Renewal,” written March 23, poem 082 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo, "Mehndi hand for Eid il-fitr," by Diana Ludwick (c) 2026.
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Homage, Poems, Belonging, Community, Connection, Eid il-fitr, Family, Feast, Flowers, Food, Friends, Henna, Holiday, Joy, Mehndi, Outdoors, relationships, Spring, #Migrated-1792872215677, #wp, #wp-post, #Import 2026-10-24 20:03

Sunshine streams through  
mature tree branches.  
A perfect breeze  
wends its way   
through the lush garden.  
  
This is one of those rare  
Maryland spring days   
where windows are open  
and the humidity is habitable.  
A banner day for renewal.  
  
Inside, in celebration  
of breaking the fast,  
mighty platters groan  
with charcoal-grilled morsels  
of chicken, lamb and kefte.  
  
Charred tomatoes and   
cooling cucumbers call to me,  
as does a build-your-own  
chana masala bar.  
I greedily pile on an extra  
spoon of green chutney.  
  
In the buzzing kitchen,  
a semi-circle of   
several animated pairs  
gossip, giggle and banter.  
  
Boisterous chatter unfolds  
over ice-filled glasses   
of tamarind, mango,  
seltzer and lime coolers.  
  
High-brow insights   
blend in smoothly   
with bawdy dad jokes and  
plans for upcoming travel.  
  
Children swirl in and out  
grabbing samosas or sodas  
then running for the yard  
or unclaimed game controllers.  
  
Out back, on the patio,  
the hollow sounds of   
basketballs bouncing  
on asphalt fill the air.  
  
Children squealing  
and adults chuckling  
mingle with birdsongs  
to form an organic melody.  
  
"Grab a chair," she says,  
"and give me your hand."  
I comply, gratefully,  
pulling over a wooden seat.  
  
"Find a design, a simple one.   
I'll try my best."   
She shrugs at me,  
politely feigning humility.  
  
I smirk back at her.  
We both know   
that she'll far  
exceed my expectations.  
  
I point at a pattern   
I've pulled up on my phone.  
She nods, considering her   
next moves and approach.  
She holds my hand   
in hers and she starts in.  
  
She works quickly:  
a thin brownish-green line   
of vegetal paste extrudes  
from a narrow golden cone  
of prepared henna.   
  
She graces me with   
a custom mehndi pattern  
under the shimmering   
spring light, painting   
blooms and leaves and   
curlicue vines onto my   
left hand.   
  
Our friendship was once  
forged in flowers.  
We now sustain it through  
intentional celebrations.   
  
We exchange invitations   
to our respective holidays   
and carry out rituals of joy.  
  
We expand and combine   
our circles of loved ones.  
We, who are always wading  
through rough waters,   
or challenges, or small triumphs.  
  
While the henna on my hand  
will slowly fade over time,  
our friendship never will.  
  
We will keep on   
weaving a warmer future,   
filled with laughter —  
and phenomenal food —  
and family, friends, wit and hope.