Allowing the Journey

 

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No striving for me today. I don’t want to be
someone special—although each of us is special—
that’s not what I mean.  I don’t want to be busy. 
I don’t want to be a woman “on a mission.” 
I don’t want to be needed for urgent answers
or probing questions. I don’t want to hear phones ring.
I don’t want to save anyone, not even me.
Ah!  You say. You want an isolation tank!
 
No.  No sensory deprivation.  I want to
turn my body over to my feet and see where
they take me—both the journey and the arrival.
Last time I took the risk and time, I found myself
in a cemetery, soft grass underfoot, hard stone reality
and leaves at hand, whiffs of lilac and pine, muffled
traffic noise, and an ache in throat and eyes until
I tasted the salt of tears, and my heart opened.
 
Today, I may laugh.  I can’t predict how
I will open, but I will because I allow
my feet to carry me into the here and now
where God and earth beings relate as one.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2023 Susan L. Chast