by DAVID WHYTE
Clarissa Pinkoles Estes wrote,
"In my uttermost bones I knew something, as you do.
It is that there can be no despair when you remember
why you came to Earth,
who you serve,
who sent you here."
I reflected on infinite possibility;
on absence and presence;
on courage and vulnerability;
on revelation and inheritance;
on my true self.
made 2 long skinny arms
and cut out a heart, which is hand-stitched with a running stitch and loose threads.
The hair is made from torn and knotted fabric scraps.
The crinoline is crafted from scraps of cane.
The horizontal is a spiral toward the womb, the heart, the soul.
The knotted fabric at each intersection
are signposts on my journey.
David Whyte wrote in this poem,
"To be human is to become visible,
while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others."
Do I live like the English rose
in the same house
in the same street
for more than seventy years?
Stability. Purpose. Joy.
Do I live like the prodigal son
who ran away to be
scarred by the ravages of a war
that was never his to fight,
to live in pain and poverty
and abandoned dreams?
Courage. Intention. Fortitude.
Do I live like the Irish colleen
subservient to a fierce deity and
obedient to celibate men she had never met,
a visible sign of invisible grace?
Sacrament. Witness. Blessing.
Do I live the life I can imagine for myself
with no more
and no less than what I need
to be creative, attentive, mindful,
to nurture and to nourish this vulnerable 'I',
to befriend my self-critic
and companion my true self,
and bear to full term the gift within?
Silence. Intention. Miracle.