I am tired of those
who swill their head
in a bucket and claim
there is no God or Good
or Beauty to be had.
I come from a tribe
of survivors who love life
more than the hardships
they’ve been dealt. And
we have found each other
the way rivers find the sea.
We know pain, fear and
struggle, like dark fish
nibbling at our bottom.
But have grown love, faith
and will like barnacles,
razored out of sight.
We come from under
every sort of rock: drunk,
raped, abandoned, cancered.
And as we navigate our way,
everyone trembles at the
wheel, the cost of being real.
So I’m fed up with those
who suck at the dark side
of things, complaining
they are bored, complaining
life’s a chore, complaining
there is nothing but their
chaos to applaud.
To be broken is no reason
to see all things as broken.
To fear death
is not a calling.
I have outlived a tumor
pressing on my brain, have
had my 8th rib removed, and
though I wept in the tub at the
gash in my side, at the fact that
I can be slit open so easily
like a bull pumped up for
market, I only want life
more, long to dance till
my heart sweats, till my
mind stops anticipating,
till I understand the dead
tree’s part in the design.
I long like a root, deeper
in the earth, so I can reach
farther to the sky.
So don’t tell me
there’s nothing
in your bucket.
To brush my teeth has
significance after three
weeks of lying flat. And
there’s glory in the water
from my mouth as it swirls
down the sink in rhythm
with the largest falls
I’ve never seen.
And when the missing
rib aches, I dream of
swimming naked in life’s
waters with those who
pulled me back to this
season of mystery
so many refuse.
A Question to Walk With: Describe a time of struggle in which you felt both fragile and strong. How did these qualities show up in you? How have they settled in your daily awareness after the struggle had passed?
This excerpt is from my book, Inside the Miracle: Enduring Suffering, Approaching Wholeness.
*photo credit: Evelyn
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