Being alive, Pain, Poetry, Reflection

The Gleam by David Whyte

For you who needed to hear this, read it out loud.

Sometimes,
in the midst
of every difficult
and everyday
awkward
way you try to
make your
onward day,

sometimes
sitting down
at the edge
of everything
that has made you
too tired
to take
another step

there’s that
caught sight,
now here,
now gone

of a half imagined
wavering light
just among
the trees

just a gleam
or a wisp
of white gold
in the dying sun

a strange kind
of beckoning,

an ache
outlined
so intimately
as it is,
against
all of the doings
you have
labeled
so lovingly
as sins,

the place you
should have gone
all those year ago
still, it seems,
willing
to invite you again,

simpler this time,
not too far away
touchable now,
and within reach

just a single step
on the other side
of what you always
come to call
in the end,
forgiveness.

~ David Whyte, ‘Still Possible’

 

© 2022 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

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