The Return to Wonder
A poem for the weary
I’ve gotten shorter.
What a curious thing that is,
the way we shrink as we age.
And I can’t help but wonder
if it isn’t a clue.
A whisper from my Maker
written into my genetic code.
“This is the way. Grow smaller.”
Yes. That sounds like Him.
Pressing words into my heart
like Anne Sullivan
tracing the hopeful letters
of peace and purpose
into the palm of her wild child.
It would be easy to dismiss
these notions if not for the
urgency I feel in the
noise of my days
to recede,
to retreat,
to quiet myself,
and notice the tiny things.
Become the tiny thing.
Feel the weight of creation
upon my frame and then let it
swallow me whole.
Even as I clean the floors
and chop onions for the sauce.
The dazzling Here and Now
unfurling around me
as I, like a child,
grow small.
Sign up here to receive our free weekly newsletter featuring the best of Crow’s Feet.
