Sometimes I'm aware of an emptiness that aches inside of me. This morning, as I went about my routines - getting gas, washing my car - I considered that perhaps that is just a part of life. Just a sensation that I can stay present with, and be okay with having. Maybe it will remain, lingering with me as a part of who I am. Perhaps it will fill up one day, gradually without my even noticing.
A poem that I used to read as a child floated through my thoughts:
When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty, like a cup
In every hole the sea came up
Till it could come no more.
Maybe digging holes and watching them be empty for a while is the only way to have something to fill. To the sea coming up!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Hiding
Today I feel
Like writing something hidden
Tucked away into a corner of the past, where
Only you
Will see it
If by you, I mean
Myself
That other most intimate to me
Swept by the broom of time
into the hidden corner of
these cobwebbed words
Like writing something hidden
Tucked away into a corner of the past, where
Only you
Will see it
If by you, I mean
Myself
That other most intimate to me
Swept by the broom of time
into the hidden corner of
these cobwebbed words
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