Oh dear small self,
My kicking and screaming child,
I am jumping into the ocean
A world where illusion dissolves.
When I emerge
the mist on the mirror
will be toweled away.

I will do this a hundred times
Embracing each illusion.
This too I am grateful for.

You are like a retiring teacher
And I, watching you walk
across the stage,
clap away the shame.
I take off my hat to you,
the “poor mes.”
I shed my shoes,
the “if onlys.”
I lay my hairshirt of blame
in your suitcase.

I hear the voice
of the Beloved in the waves
on the beach, calling from
a spacious place within.

Leave a Reply