Being alive, Poetry

still possible

Looking to 2023, here’s a poem to remind us of all that is still possible.

No, it’s still possible to feel that spring
is in the air, to intuit these days
as pilgrim days: that these are mornings
for setting out and setting off,
early hours when new stories
have already begun, mornings
to understand that you are now living
fully in some secret  parallel
where you can just as well
go anywhere by going nowhere,
when you can stay at home
and find in any given hour or day,
in the quiet kitchen, the just culmination
of a practiced sincerity, when you can learn
the daily minutiae of giving up
and giving in, the beautiful but necessary
fasting into submission, of resting
through not doing, or not eating
or not hating, or not taking, or not
judging too quickly, of learning how easily
you can free yourself and how easily you can
forget who needed to be impressed
and who needed to be punished
and most of all, recounting who you
needed to forgive so bravely, for hurting
you so deeply: yes, to practice every day,
the difficult art of being proudly abstemious
but disarmingly generous; of learning
to entertain the unsettling truth;
that from the very beginning, through all
your difficulties, you have been learning
to pass on every single thing you have ever learned
and every single thing you never fully
deserved, back to those who have
never found it in their power to receive.
~ David Whyte, excerpt from “Still Possible”

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

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