Nor even understand
A single word here spoken
To know the story
In the gestures
A narrative
As old as time
Some for good
Some for naught
Most with barely
Any thought
A good many
I regret
But the life
Which made them
I do not
I learned
I grew
I fell down
I got back up
Events
Connections
Love, loss
Attainment, failure
Lessons, places, people
Glories and gaffes and grace
Everything that ever happened
To get me here
Where I’m standing
In this moment now
On the path
To who I’ll be
If nothing comes
Find a prompt
(Photographs usually work.)
Start again
Breathe
Quiet mind
Write what comes
Don’t argue with the words
It’s OK to not like what they say
Write them anyway
It’s OK to not have the right words
Write down the wrong words
The right ones can be found later
Wait or pause whenever it feels
Like the words aren’t coming… yet
Or the meaning isn’t right… yet
And the right way isn’t present… yet
Quiet mind
Breathe
Take the time
To let them come
To let them flow
When they flow
Don’t stop
Stop, when it feels OK to stop
Stop, when the words feel true
If the words feel true
They are authentic
Whether or not they seem beautiful
Whether or not they seem important
Whether or not they seem angry
Whether or not they seem loving
Whether or not they seem … whatever
This is the hard part
Whether or not they hurt a little to read
Or hurt a lot
It seems, though
Authentic words are never hurtful
Nor bitter
Nor righteous
There is no deceit in them
Nor guile
The ego is not authentic
Not all words which come
Need to be shared
Even authentic ones
Some words were only ever intended
To speak truly to a readership of one
But, consider sharing them anyway
The word could use a little more
Authenticity
Though much I seem
To go astray
Just trust the flow
To lead the way
So long as I
Keep steady craft
Row with the main
And level stay
I’ll reach the calm
Upon this raft
Outside
The first layer
I remind myself
The darkness is always present
Even in the brightest light
Its balance is available
I remind myself
The light is not too bright
Rather my eyes remain
Accustomed to the darkness
One score and five thousand years ago
Human eyes came to see
Human hands learned to make
All our grandiose change
No match for nature’s hand
As comfortable as I am
With the window
And its pretty scene
Offering distraction
As respite
It occurs to me
Pass through the window