The rock doesn’t take it personally
when the wave crashes over it,
nor does the wave take it personally
when the rock interrupts it,
nor do the gulls take it personally
when the spray is hard enough to send them flying,
nor does the spray take it personally
when the birds leave it to its own settling.
Here we are on shore, interrupting
one another, speaking accidental slights,
forgetting to notice what the other needs,
growing angry at the behavior of careless visitors.
The truth is, no promises were ever made,
so there’s never been a promise to break.
What besides us in this whole landscape takes it personally?
when the wave crashes over it,
nor does the wave take it personally
when the rock interrupts it,
nor do the gulls take it personally
when the spray is hard enough to send them flying,
nor does the spray take it personally
when the birds leave it to its own settling.
Here we are on shore, interrupting
one another, speaking accidental slights,
forgetting to notice what the other needs,
growing angry at the behavior of careless visitors.
The truth is, no promises were ever made,
so there’s never been a promise to break.
What besides us in this whole landscape takes it personally?
On this path
I’ve begun asking myself what I need
from the world, and I’ve begun asking why.
And I’ve been wondering about the seeds
of dissatisfaction and alibis,
and how I follow where impulses lead--
and why. I slow down and demystify
the feelings I take from tears and laughter
when they arise. And I try not to try.
I try not to dwell for long on after
or before. I don’t get lost in the weeds.
I try not to try, and I don’t have to
succeed. I’ve begun to take it lightly
when I flail—to say it’s just a draft or
a gift for the compost pile, and rightly.
I began a long time ago to die.
I drop hold of each day’s motions nightly,
and I’ve begun to wake in strange delight.
I’ve begun asking myself what I need
from the world, and I’ve begun asking why.
And I’ve been wondering about the seeds
of dissatisfaction and alibis,
and how I follow where impulses lead--
and why. I slow down and demystify
the feelings I take from tears and laughter
when they arise. And I try not to try.
I try not to dwell for long on after
or before. I don’t get lost in the weeds.
I try not to try, and I don’t have to
succeed. I’ve begun to take it lightly
when I flail—to say it’s just a draft or
a gift for the compost pile, and rightly.
I began a long time ago to die.
I drop hold of each day’s motions nightly,
and I’ve begun to wake in strange delight.
A Visitor Called Sadly
A certain kind of Sadly
seemed to seep into my soul.
I knew because I noticed
a heavy, heart-shaped hole.
I stepped inside the heaviness.
My breath blew out a tad.
I heard the Sadly’s message.
The message was: “I’m sad.”
My sense of awful heightened.
My eyes went warm and wet.
My belly dropped and tightened--
I could feel it felt upset.
But I sat there with the Sadly,
and I watched it gently cry,
and I felt it in my body
until our tears went dry.
And then I saw a window,
a warming ray of sun;
and inside came a lightness
that felt like feeling done.
I reached out to the Sadly
that came in so bereft,
but the heavy hole had vanished
and the sadly simply left.
And now I think I understand
what made the Sadly melt.
It wanted to be sat with.
It needed to be felt.
I leave a doorway open,
a heart-shaped passageway
in case the Sadly comes again.
I think it knows it may.
A certain kind of Sadly
seemed to seep into my soul.
I knew because I noticed
a heavy, heart-shaped hole.
I stepped inside the heaviness.
My breath blew out a tad.
I heard the Sadly’s message.
The message was: “I’m sad.”
My sense of awful heightened.
My eyes went warm and wet.
My belly dropped and tightened--
I could feel it felt upset.
But I sat there with the Sadly,
and I watched it gently cry,
and I felt it in my body
until our tears went dry.
And then I saw a window,
a warming ray of sun;
and inside came a lightness
that felt like feeling done.
I reached out to the Sadly
that came in so bereft,
but the heavy hole had vanished
and the sadly simply left.
And now I think I understand
what made the Sadly melt.
It wanted to be sat with.
It needed to be felt.
I leave a doorway open,
a heart-shaped passageway
in case the Sadly comes again.
I think it knows it may.