Hi friends,
I have a poem for you today.
For me, poetry is a community prayer. It is my medicine. It aids my survival. More than ever, we need connections that make us feel tethered to the large mystery called Being Human.
Spring, a season for hope and revival, is inviting us to listen before we move hastily to the highs of summer.
Listen, my friends, with eyes closed, hands on heart, we listen.
Xiaoyu
Raining on One April Monday
Spring is walking towards me while
I am busy thinking about summer plans
Plans, oh, plans –
The imagined lives and future I hold gently.
Why have I not abandoned planning altogether?
What about that promise to be present for this breath?
Perhaps it is hope for the sake of hoping.
Perhaps it is stubbornness from the willful child within.
Perhaps it is the anticipatory fear of winter revisiting
amidst the torching sun and the
Shiny happiness my neighbors are performing.
With my unsettled mind, I stepped outside.
Surprised by the rain on my face, I laughed.
Spring rain is here – quiet and gentle.
It sings patiently – listen, listen, listen.
My child, it is time to listen – close your eyes
Let the music wash away what you couldn’t and shouldn’t be holding.
Invite the strength reserved for this sacred surrendering.
Trust, my dear. Trust
Soon, Harvest, soon.
