I am listening


In each moment do I come to know more fully what this is about, why I am here:

To look and to see.

To listen and to hear.

It has been me all along. It is true. It has, and no one can show you the way of that. Some things we must come to know in that one moment when all aligns and receptivity has granted permission. It is again Epiphany showing itself in its fullness.

Gratitude rushes in, a tsunami in my life. It tears every fear, every illusion, every moment or instant of my questioning, to shreds. It ruins the possibility of their existence beyond the split second each has when they knock on my door. [I give them that.] I know that I can be free in any moment of my choosing, and that my happiness is mine and mine alone. At my core, it has been permanently chosen. In my poetry do I acknowledge the split seconds given each undesired thing. They must be sent from somewhere, so I give them words, voice them their due, while reminding them of their impermanence.

I look and I see.

I listen and I hear.

I forgive—

the ways I didn’t look,

the ways I didn’t see,

the ways I didn’t listen,

the ways I didn’t hear.

I leave room for myself.

I leave room for you.


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