....original photography except where noted....
Sunday, September 26, 2010
how boring to be human
i am glad that,
as it turns out
i live a life
bedazzled by mystery….
•
sometimes
walking the beach
my imagination swirls out
over diamond-touched
waves….
sometimes
tangerine
miniature roses
outside my front door
seem to give me three tiny smiles
as i walk by….
and i love them so for blooming….
is this not normal?
•
i am one of many….
one part of a vast web of feelers….
people who anchor love onto the earth
and can’t stop themselves doing it….
•
i am glad
that someone else’s suffering can keep me awake at night….
glad to care –
glad to try to learn....
these are the things that make me pray in the black night:
love,
love,
and love….
•
and whatever else
these whispered blessings do –
you can at least know,
on the next night that you turn and toss
with your human worries,
that somewhere
people are sending out good wishes –
even though it’s three a.m.,
and most likely they wish they were asleep…..
•••
even if i appear crazed,
even if i sob and can’t see myself through another moment,
because i’ve had to say goodbye to some goodness
or other….
even if suffering threatens to pound me into
a thin veil of myself,
i am glad….
because somehow
this makes me see
more deeply
into the great mystery that i live –
•
i admit, i can’t understand
what causes a child to be born….
or a seed to sprout forth a tiny rootling….
even science hasn’t found those exact neuro-bio-chemicals….
yet i know that science and i at last
must stop measuring –
must resort to metaphor
to explain the inexplicable….
•
really, nothing is completely, neatly explainable,
fun as it is to try….
seeing this, i can revel in the miracle
that suffuses and comprises this world….
even if that miracle is death….
or freewill….
or other things that hurt me….
•
because,
in the end,
each moment connects me to the greatness that is you,
my friend….
as we lie here
completely exposed to the universe….
•
on quiet evenings
i can hear the world
turning underneath its bustle –
its sweet music quivers faintly
through windows thrown open
to warm autumn air….
on evenings
when it seems
like anguish
may etch itself into my face forever….
i remember the thousand miracles,
and i am glad to see the mystery --
how boring, otherwise,
to miss all of this grandness….
________________
©2010
Beth Anne Boardman
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