I wrote this poem in response to the innate fear that often manifests when you are presented with an opportunity you’ve asked for, that you want deeply, but that you are terrified to accept. Perhaps because you are afraid to fail, afraid to change, afraid of making the wrong choice. How do you let go of that fear and embrace inner wisdom? I don’t profess to know the answer, but I’m contemplating it daily.
What do you do
When the universe grants your prayer?
Do you cower in fright
Like a child who fears the night?
Do silent, salty tears flow down your face
And consume your soul
Washing away any semblance of your past self?
Do you give in to the power
Of understanding and pure love
That you can’t imagine possibly exists
And leap into the flowing current
Against the judgement of your mind
Or the cautions of others?
Does your heart shrink into itself
Hiding beneath the thick layers it has built over years
Like countless woolen blankets suffocating truth?
Does your mind pull you back into the past
With invisible bars and cold floors?
Or does your heart expand toward the light
Of knowing itself in ways unimagined
Of swimming through fear and doubt?
Unsurely at first, cautious
But swiftly feeling the current lifting you up
Not pulling you under
As you give in to it, it gives back in turn to your supple movement.
Who were you, back then?
It doesn’t matter. You are here now, and each now is new.
Each drop is whole unto itself, but indistinguishable from all else.
Rip off the blankets. Dissolve the bars.
Leave the heavy voices behind like unneeded layers cast off in the warmth of the sun.
Feel the light on your cheek
And melt into the joy of the light.