—From “Reveries” by Alexandra Villard de Borchgrave, 2021
“Reveries: In Search of Love, Hope, and Courage” is a book of poetry by American writer and photojournalist Alexandra Villard de Borchgrave. Within, a trusting and compassionate hand seems to coax our fears and sorrow out from their dark prisons, and transform them, page after page.
Villard de Borchgrave is the author of six books of poetry and a biography of her great-grandfather, railroad magnate and financier Henry Villard. She grew up all around the world and worked as an international journalist in the 1960s and 1970s. But her spiritual and artistic faculties were only pressed into service in the aftermath of 9/11, when she sought to help victims heal by offering comforting poetry. Since then, readers, from terminally ill patients to grieving family members, have called her poetry profound, uplifting, and healing.
Boutros Boutros-Ghali, the Egyptian-born former Secretary General of the United Nations, contributed a forward for one of her collections, describing it as “an oasis of compassion and inner calm.” John C. Whitehead, the former chairman of the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, sent her first book, “Healing Light: Thirty Messages of Love, Hope, and Courage,” to 9/11 survivors’ families. Her encouragement continues to comfort people in hospitals and hospices through books gifted by her organization, the Light of Healing Hope Foundation.
A feeling of empathy with those who were suffering then led to a desire to record the emotions and events I observed. I did not know then how deep that desire would run.
Perhaps the most significant moment that influenced the whole of my life came when I developed glandular fever in the space of an hour. We were staying at the Uaddan Hotel in Tripoli, as the residence was not yet ready for my father, who had been newly appointed as the first American ambassador to Libya. I had just turned 6. My mother had gone to call on Queen Fatima one afternoon when I fell into convulsions with a fever of 105. Not knowing what else to do, my lovely young Norwegian governess wrapped me in a sheet and took me down to the lobby of the hotel where she hoped to find a doctor. None was available. I had made friends with the engaging Italian concierge who I could see was making frantic calls to find one. Just as things were reaching a critical point, my mother returned and immediately took me to the American hospital at the Wheelus Air Base. I was acutely aware of my mother’s love enfolding me as she held me in her arms, but I also felt I was slipping away from her. We sped toward the base at breakneck speed with our driver, Ramadam, doing his best to weave in and out of the traffic as we were rocked back and forth on the back seat. I must have lost consciousness at one point as I do not remember the doctors taking me from my mother’s arms to care for me.
As I grew up, I believed that coming that close to losing my life meant that every extra day was a gift that might be taken away at any time, making me somewhat fearful of participating fully in life for fear of falling ill again, which I often did, but at the same time making me desirous of expressing love and gratitude to those around me.
On the morning of 9/11, I was watching Charlie Gibson interviewing Fergie on ABC at 8:45 a.m., when suddenly he said, “There is something happening at the World Trade Center.” And then we all witnessed the second plane go into the tower. I knew immediately that this was a terrorist attack.
That night, as anguish hung in the air like a veil of tears, I began to pray for a way to bring some small measure of comfort and healing to the families who had suffered the most devastating loss of their loved ones.
I prayed that same prayer every night for a year, but I could not find the right way to bring comfort to those who had suffered this unspeakable tragedy. Then, on the first anniversary of that terrible day, as I watched the children call out their parents’ names at Ground Zero with great courage, I was once again overcome with sorrow for them. The next morning, I woke with a strange pressure in my heart, and I knew something was going to happen.
I got in the shower and all at once, poetic words cascaded out of me so quickly I had to jump out of the shower and grab a pen and paper to write them down. As I did so, I heard a voice say to me, “All right, if you really want something to do, here it is, and if you do it, it will get to where you want it to go.”
As earnest verses about love, hope, and courage flowed out of me, I felt I was being shown a way to bring comfort to those families in need, and the result, three years later, was the publication of “Healing Light: Thirty Messages of Love, Hope, and Courage.” That book was sent as a gift, through the kindness of John C. Whitehead, then chairman of the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, to all the survivors’ families, and my prayer was answered.
With “Beloved Spirit,” I came to believe in an intimate moment of surrender, a time when the soul may connect with a higher being, light, spirit, or God, a part of which I am convinced resides within all of us. Moments of reflection allow us to be open to creativity, take a step forward into the unknown, make untold mistakes along the way, and learn from them. It permits us to be vulnerable to sorrow and accepting of criticism, and fosters a willingness to do better. It provides untapped courage in the face of terror and, ultimately, the peace with which to depart this life.
This philosophy, along with the encouragement of dear friends, led me to found the Light of Healing Hope Foundation in the hope it would help light a new pathway to comfort.
I am so grateful to our generous supporters who have made it possible for me to provide books of hope and comfort for adults as well as for children who are suffering.
I am thrilled that the Light of Healing Hope Foundation has delivered thousands of our gifts to over 100 hospitals and hospices including Johns Hopkins, NIH, Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, INOVA [Health System], St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and the Capital Caring Hospice.
