The earth
still damp with rain
from last night’s downpour,
I sit on the old steps
behind the house
and watch tiny droplets
roll down the face
of shining leaves
and fall soundlessly
to the ground.
I’ve just finished
my morning meditation, learning to trust,
again and again,
that my breath
won’t fail me,
that this body
will in fact
hold me
when all else
falls apart.
Somehow,
I keep forgetting.
Every morning, I must relearn
the simplest truths:
I am here.
I am meant
to be here.
And so are you.
And this earth,
rain-soaked
and beautiful
and bittersweet,
is perfect
just as it is.
And my great task,
my joyous burden,
is to make
my way
through it,
with a heart
wide open
as the sky
and hands
stretching
outwards
to greet you.
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