A poem a day each April, for Katya the Poet's Dew Drop Inn |
She asks me to make friends with fear, uncertainty, anxiety, and knowing not - to sit with feeling I will absolutely lose my shit to not turn on another episode of Little House again, to not play Guster's Come Downstairs and Say Hello another time, to not reach for the book, the paint, the clay the chips-and-dip, the cookie, coffee, not to make the cake - not to nap or walk into the woods or light a joint not to call a friend or launch the kayak, not to blog, not to pop a pill or play pretend it isn't so - She asks me to stay, allowing everything to flow, to label every thought as thinking, every single statement every worry, judgement, self-assertions declarations affirmations disclosures revelations all the junk and all the precious, everything I think I know or hold or held or thought I had let go - wishes, prayer, resentment, pining for my partner for a parent for my only child gone gone gone and gone, forever thinking, remember it is thinking, I am thinking I hear you, Pema, but I've got to go my favorite episode is on and the theme song is a lullaby. note ▼ |