Something softens when we enter the flow.
—Joi Sharp
Not that I didn’t try to find the shore.
I scraped at the stones, grasping as I passed,
clawing until my fingers bled. Not that I didn’t try
to stall in the eddy where I spiraled down,
down. I tried. I tried. What if, instead, I had
fallen in love with the angry swirl, fallen in
love with the waves’ white froth, fallen in love
with the chill, the roil. It did not last, the chaos. It delivered
me to the warm quiet water that also did not last.
At one point, though, it happened, through no effort
of my own, the small unvoice in me began to whisper,
world I love you, world I love you, world I love
you I said to the rocks, to the shore, to the heron
standing in the center of the stream as I passed.
I hope yu were in an inner tube. Of course, the human body is also a tube inflated with air! I especially like the “at one point” transition and what follows, the mantra to the world.
Another wonderful poem!
“the small unvoice in me…” sublime
“Master, when there are times I’m so filled with gratitude, what shall I pray?”
“Thank you, for everything. I have no complaint, whatsoever.”
“But, Master, there are times when it’s so dark, when nothing’s right. What shall I pray, then?”
“Thank you, for everything. I have no complaint, whatsoever.”