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I am soft today. Soft as shortbread dough fresh off the mixer, liquored by an extract of vanilla and spun with siftfuls of powdered sugar. And salt. Because when I say soft, I don’t really mean sweet. I mean the feeling around a streetlight on a quiet road, that miasmic halo that reveals the season’s lingering winged things aiming for the bulb’s muted warmth. Or when the market vendor, handing me a sheaf of kale, said it was so much better because of the frost. I’m not saying I am the frost, or the leaves, purple-green and pliant, spread across the palms of our half-gloved hands, but whatever middle it was that we met. Palm-soft. Air-soft. Truth-soft. Soft as whatever the sky is doing right this minute, shedding the day behind it. And in-betweenness where what’s next isn’t here yet. Or it is, and if I keep my breath soft enough, I’ll see it. - Maya Stein
This poem is in honor of Ezra, my second son, who leaves home this week to make his own way in the world, to follow his heart...
Much more than even so, SO much more than even... this kid, his heart, my heart... Go my wild sweet...held, beheld... emerge with widened wings... Two years ago my first son, Silas, left home. You can check out the Kahlil Gibran poem here: www.guideforconscioushealing.com/wild-words-poetry-blog/lifes-longing-for-itself
There is a place in my heart When I sink down and in Where I am surprised to discover I am already whole My mind is suspicious Yet it is undeniably true There is a place in my heart When I sink down and in Where I discover my problems Are not actually problems But places of wild tenderness Where I find myself again When I sink down and in When I slow down inside When I trust enough To melt I find I am only ever meeting Myself And this meeting Is the truth It is the secret desire Inside all desires: All I ever really wanted Was me - Maya Luna
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