Posts Tagged ‘what does life want?’




Could be you feel

like a tiny bird

flapping hard, hard

as you can

into the wind.

Though there

is no sign that says

Dead End,

you are not going

anywhere and can’t

imagine you ever will.

Could be

all that fluttering

exhausts you


you stop all that trying

and turn away

from whatever it is

you think

you are flying toward.

And then


you understand—

not with your head,

with your whole being—

that wherever the wind

is going to go

it will go. Could be

you find yourself

saying yes to the wind,

the same wind,

you know this, that fills

your lungs.

Could be that it

is so beautiful,

this new kind of flying,

that you forget

to be frightened

that you do not know

what will happen next.

Could be you’ve never

been quite so aware

how infinite

the sky.



Read Full Post »




It was so lovely, the home

I built in the arroyo,

such smooth golden plaster

I worked with my hands,

such luster in the wood.

I had been told, of course,

about the chance of flood. Perhaps

some part of me felt relief

when the current finally came—

first a hum, then a roar,

then the splintering din,

and then only vehement rush.

What does the soul want, really,

but to join with the wild flood?

Regret can only tread for so long;

this now is what life wants.

An uprooted tree, a hand carved beam—

both serve as well for a float.

Now whatever the water says,

that is where I go.


Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: