resonance

The same thought resonates.

Heaven resonates when one sings wholeheartedly.

She (my mother) could still recite them (the poems) in full when she was lying helpless and nearly blind, in her bed, an old lady. Reciting, her voice took on resonance and firmness, it rang with the old fervor, with ferocity even. She was teaching me one more, almost her last, lesson: emotions do not grow old. I knew that I would feel as she did, and I do.

And to think of all the colors in the world, blood chose to be red.