The way the field holds
the shadow of the cottonwood,
this is how life holds me.
Holds me, no matter my shape.
Holds me with no effort.
Holds my darkness and knows it
as weightless, as transient,
as something that will shift,
disappear, return, and shift again.
It never says no to me.
I am still learning to trust life, to trust
no matter how I show up, I will be held.
Trust that my life is not a problem.
Trust that as much as I am the shadow,
I am also the field.