insist on the sacred

sunrise2

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes it will feel

As though every moment of

Every day is walled in behind

Heavy blocks of solid ugliness

 

 

No light, no spark,

No color or song within

Or without you—

 

 

Some moments will feel

So heavily pointless that

The sky itself shrinks to dulness

And birds fly mechanically, with dead eyes.

 

 

Don’t believe it for a second.

Hand on heart, search with everything in you

For a single softness

 

 

There is a crack somewhere—look!

A leaf is falling in singing spirals

The sunset lights a stranger’s hair from within.

 

 

Perhaps it is the way your breath catches on

An unsung sadness in your throat before

Falling finally to fill your heart.

 

 

Grasp now with both hands

And shoulder it open, this

Cracked, dull facade: it isn’t true.

 

 

Push through.

 

 

It’s always there, the sacred, in the legal brief,

The pinching shoes,

The smashed body of the young raccoon,

The crushed beer cans, the lost love—

 

 

Don’t be fooled.

Insist.

Come alive.

Step through.

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4 Comments

November 7, 2013 · 2:00 pm

4 responses to “insist on the sacred

  1. Love it. Yesterday sucked. It was “one of THOSE days”. Everything…and I mean EVERYTHING was going wrong. I ended up pushing wheelbarrows full of rocks up a steep hill just to offload some of the outrageous indignation I was feeling about how awful my day was going…I exhausted myself. I returned to the house and made myself a big mug of tea. I put some music on the computer that would blast some of the twistiness out of me and headed outside into the sun to bask, lizard like, with my big mug of tea and my thoughts…I found my crack. The music, the tea, the work, THE END BAD DAY! It all melted away and became just so much dross on the waves of my life. We all have “bad days” and they are put there to make the good days taste like nectar. Today is my biotch and I shall sip of the nectary cup of happiness (whether today likes it or not! ;) ).

    • oh, dross on the waves of life! it continues to amaze me how we dance the same cycles, whoever or wherever we are. i can’t tell you how many literal wheelbarrows full of rocks i have pushed up hills too…i love your insistence on the nectary cup. yes, yes, yes!

  2. What an absolutely inspiring poem – my yesterday kept pretending to be a disaster, too.

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