or think about the next thing. Walk
with the quiet trees, can you believe
how brave they are—how kind? Model your life
after theirs. Blow kisses
at yourself in the mirror
especially when
you think you’ve messed up. Forgive
yourself for not meeting your unreasonable
expectations. You are human, not
God—don’t be so arrogant.
Praise fresh air
clean water, good dogs. Spin
something from joy. Open
a window, even if
it’s cold outside. Sit. Close
your eyes. Breathe. Allow
the river
of it all to pulse
through eyelashes
fingertips, bare toes. Breathe in
breathe out. Breathe until
you feel
your bigness, until the sun
rises in your veins. Breathe
until you stop needing
anything
to be different.
She decides to return to the simple,
hummingbird sipping nectar
outside open window, pink petals
lit up and laughing with sun
she rests her hand on her own hurting heart, breathes
the kind of breath that releases
all trying, all wanting, all waiting - all promises
of saviors and some day.
She allows rain to pound hard
on all that no longer shelters.
She remembers there is medicine,
the very best kind of medicine, inside
the tender-sweet song of now.
She remembers it is never not now.
She decides to return to the simple,
rolls out yoga mat, allows each stretch,
each bow, each breath
to teach her all the secrets.
She whispers namaste to her own reflection,
and these words whisper back -
It is enough to be you.
She lets a lifetime of sorrow seep
from her tired, trying bones,
lets it rest on the ground
with every mighty
fallen petal. And she breathes.
Still, she breathes.
listen to the words of your soul
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