This week, having been a little unsettling, I accept myself in whatever state I am in–doubt, sadness, joy, pain, bliss, I’ve run the gamut. There is room for everything. I am perfectly imperfect. I’m going with that.

This week, I accept that words have eluded me as I have struggled with my imperfect attempts to be brilliant here.  After much effort of starting, stopping, stilting, nothing until stop–I’ve felt like a too hard eraser that stubs across and rips at the page. I offer this instead, a poem in honor of this sacred life and being–

Let the soft animal that is your body,

rise up from the earth.

You who live on the edge of infinity and stars,

feet on the ground deeply rooting into black soil beneath you,

feel as emerald earth rises up through your bones.

This animal that you are, that houses you,

needs stroking, needs petting,

needs feeding and nurture.

Let it purr.

Your animal soft or sleek is perfect,

this suit of blood and bone and flesh—

born from Earth and stars

—that houses the light of ten suns.

This animal that is your home for such a brief time,

that gives you arms to surround and hold close with;

hands to comfort or create with;

legs to run, to climb mountains or merely to move towards

a crying child; and

eyes that mirror the heart beating inside your chest.

This being-ness so full of miracles

in every miniscule act,

in the little lion that roars when its hungry;

in the vast army of red corpuscles muscling their way

through your body,

its vast arterial highway—

down to atoms and quarks in joyous dance

and light that explodes in ecstasy

in the cosmos that lies between.

As the heart flows into the body in

muscle and skin and lungs that breathe;

in fits of laughter when your eyes water

and your beautiful cheeks can take it no more

and your body is doubled over with pleasure—

until the last day your animal serves,

until earth reclaims your house,

and your light is freed, what shall you do?

Till then, here’s a clue:

Love the animal you find yourself in.

Praise it often for giving everything you need and more.

Why give it less when it asks so little of you?

Just a little fresh air and sunshine, some good food,

laughter and friends to hold near,

some cleansing tears—

Dear Miracle:

Choose to be an opening everyday

through which love lives.

© 2010 Susan Wolfington