{ the only life }

me, lately:
moving through the day with easy force.
moving human pieces across the boards
of business. answering everyone's uncertainty
with clarity. acting like someone twice my age,
navigating minefields, overturning complaints.
the world's needs confound and empty me.

how to react? how to recover?

me, lately:
standing at the countertop, knife drawn.
i don't go for precision. i let myself be messy.
it gives me greater appreciation to eat
when i prepare each part myself.
it gives me time to think, time to dance,
time to spend energy on something small
but something important.

to feel grounded in my own home:
to feel real and firmly lodged in these moments.
knife to board, knees bumping cabinets,
hands steady, thoughts focused but free.

to lie still in my own bed:
worries swirling up and away.
i welcome rest in the planes of my face,
the fold of my arms, the curve of one leg around the other.

to listen to the cries of my own soul
after everyone else's clamoring demands have faded:
it's both more necessary and much harder than you think.
but it must be done. it must be done,
or i will die. i sense sharp fingers digging in.
i feel the threat of losing myself
in the din of what would make everyone happy ---
everyone but me. there is a hollow happiness
in denying yourself for another's gain. i know it well.
so i'm diving into the silent deep
in order that i may rise.

-------------------

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

{ the journey, by mary oliver }