Everything is Waiting for You
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
– David Whyte
Supreme Court Abomination
On the day when so much sadness prevailed on our national stage,
when hearts were heard breaking from Tacoma to Trenton
I married a couple, long friends, good hearts,
on a hill overlooking the Mettawee valley, ablaze with autumnal colors and pride.
Two people stood nearby, making music on their guitars
while the rest of us spoke words
of love and fidelity, trust and hope.
On the day when it felt as if darkness was winning
a friend painted my portrait,
pulling the light from outside the studio,
mixing it with colors squeezed from tubes of paint,
seeing what he saw
in my face, my blue shirt.
And pressing it to canvas.
My son called me that day to ask if I was OK.
I repeat, my son did that.
He was in Idaho with his friends.
”I just wanted to make sure you’re OK,” is what he said, with his gentle son voice.
On the day when it felt as if the air was being sucked out of the whole world
I heard from the place where I had sent my application
that I was chosen.
Chosen to travel to Israel
to see and smell places holy and ancient. This winter.
I ran across the street, still in my wedding clothes,
to tell Nancy,
who was practicing I’ll Fly Away
for church today.
I’ll fly away, oh glory
I’ll fly away
Everything is waiting, yes. Everything.