Eventually I noticed,
by the echoes,
that my voice was in a small box,
buffeted by louder competing voices,
coming through in snatches
mostly unheard
I reflect on the absences
that brought me to that place —
the drive, on automatic,
the walking, with a sense
of obligation more than eagerness,
a sense of fatalism,
more than bearing witness to the truth
Yes, I was there,
and my being there was nominally good
(there is a value, after all, in showing up)
But at any time
I could have gone through
the other door in consciousness,
where nothing has been mindless
and the holy purpose
of everything
aligns us
with the present unfolding
of the blessing we each can offer
and each receive.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 17, 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment