You call me outsay — this will not do,is not enough.I’ll show you thatyou still have stuffto work throughand work on- I’ll show you.
There is a shred -A shred of a sliver of somethingThat I recall in a thoughtOf a smile that beamsOr the wryest grin with a twistOr a face that is sunlit and lovingThat I long for
Let things happen naturallyand you’ll avoid disaster.
Give your life the time it needsand you’ll always have enough time.
You may wish for a riverTo pour down your spineAnd wash away the growlingDependency of desperate days.
You may wish for an oceanTo rise and overwhelmThe hyperactive strategiesOf agility and agency.
I will bury my feet in clay.
Firmly plantedIn the riverbedI’ll count the stonesAs they are washedpast my anklesby the current
I think of a stormOf raging ocean waves.The kind that surfers dream of.And us, out at sea, throwing ourselves into the swell.Seeing the life in the waterbut ill-equipped to ride it.Crashing again and again,churning in sand and foam — exhausted arms and legsreach out for the shore…
A thought this morningOut walking -I thoughtI oughtTo love my bodyAs it was moving -To allow and enjoyThe infinite intelligenceOf this living systemAnd its movement -And in that momentI said to myselfThat I loved my body -And then laughedAt the physical recognitionThat the ‘I’ that I clung…