Only One
She Will Not Be Quiet: A (mostly unedited) daily writing practice
Jotting from my journal. Day #71 of daily writing/sharing.
Only One
I don't want to lead the way, don't want to wrestle, hustle, clean up the mess— want the pen to guide me somewhere surprising, unexpected, untucked—wild with true‚ a place where there are no windows, no doors, no fences, no walls. No stern voices that think they know best, no uncomfortable, high heels, or pressed slacks, no days packed with busy. I want a feather-soft place where we can kick off our shoes, feel the earth breathe beneath bare feet— I want to enter that Rumi field where we can all lie down and rest together. A refuge of rest, a nest so feather-soft the false falls away. I want to live in a world where more is not better—unless it has to do with love, kindness, sharing, caring, unless it has to do with lilacs that kiss my nose when I breathe. I want us to meet one another with empty hands, open-sky minds, to see ourselves in the eyes of the other, to see the other in our own tired eyes— to know that, really, there is only one of us.
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Julia, "glorious" might seem indolent praise, but it is just about precise. I join this poemsong, this prayer of yours, to the breathing earth, to the unjudging sky, to the field that welcomes poets who aren't wearing shoes or credentials or frowns or good grades or obligations or prohibitions. May the grass of that field cradle your footsteps kindly.