The Day

A Poem about discovering being and letting the lists go

She felt the day drifting away from her
Like an unreachable balloon floating further and further away
Her grasp weakening, energy escaping like a leaky bucket
Lists and good intentions pouring in to the earth
To be recycled another day on a longer, yet more urgent list
Further and further out of reach
My gaze — it never turns from these lost balloons
It never looks ahead or down or below
Around or to the side
Unaware of time and space
The game she will always lose consumes her
Until one day she sets it out in poetry
The lists she casts aside, the voice of God gently floats in
Suddenly she looks ahead, below and to the side
But all and everything is how it is
Nothing is missing, the most abundant picture of all pictures
The view is complete
Does she have to do anything at all?
The day is all hers and everyone’s
Not in her grasp but in her being

Rummaging through the old poetry book I found this written 19th November 2013, highly relevant today!