Does it matter to the world That I have lost my center; That I find my heart jerked back and forth With every new event And the conjecture about what it means? Does my own peace or angst Add anything to the world’s unfolding? The answer is either yes, or no. Either way, it makes a difference Whether I can find my way to peace, in You. If yes - If my own centering in Your presence Can help in some small way To remind the world that there is a center And that we are all invited in - Then it does make a difference To one small corner of the world. If no - If my peace or angst are mine alone, If there are no ripples from my presence, Then, I might as well seek peace. It will, after all, Make a vast difference to me Even if it is me, alone. And I expect the truth Is somewhere in the middle. It is both yes and no. I will not change the world, much. But even a little can make a difference. I know this because The kind smile of a friend, The simple sigh of one I love, The joy that invades my heart From seeing the pure joy of my granddaughter Or the soft, proud smile of her mother These make my life rich. I am pulled from poverty of spirit To the rich, full embrace of life By little things. And so, I resolve To offer what little things I can To life, To You, And, so, to the world. I give my offering As a ‘yes’ to the center That gives its life to me.
These hold me here, in time.
These still my soul.
These hold me true.
Why then do I hurry past the moments of opportunity?
Why does my heart keep turning aside
To gaze at the plastic trinkets scattered on the path
Or run to hide from the angry voices shouted in the air?
How do I let myself get distracted again, again, again?
I turn to run and find myself stumbling into you.
You have been standing there, waiting for me.
I cry out again and release myself into your arms.
And you take me in.
You sit me down upon the grass.
I lean myself upon your frame.
And sigh a tearful, stuttering sigh.
You place your hand upon my shoulder
And whisper in my ear, “Here, here.”
Not ‘there, there,’ as I might expect,
But ‘here, here.’
And that with that brief turn of phrase,
My heart takes its breath and turns, as well.
And I am, for just a moment, here.
Here – the only place I can really be right now.
‘There’ is only fantasy,
A wishful, fearful, fitful web,
Sticky with false promises.
Here. Here within your arms.
Here and nowhere else.
Here for just a breath.
Here, here, is life.