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It’s Morning

 

It’s morning. Early morning. I’ve been up since 4:45. I suppose a bit restless. I’m traveling today. Need to pack. Need to tuck in my home. Wanting to go. Yet also, reluctant. Still very much learning to welcome “home” wherever I am, with good people. Yet, also, still very much learning about leaving home. There’s some pain in it for me. Some unresolved of my life’s chapters. It’s all belonging, I suppose. This is one of the things I tell myself. This is what I try to surrender myself to.

It’s morning. I’ve been reading a few poems that I’ve recently crafted. Loving some. Not loving some. I suppose I’m a bit restless. Not only am I traveling on the outside, I’m traveling on the inside too. I’m remembering the weekend hike to the falls, and the rocky mountain walls nearby. The spaciousness. The wonder. The wander. Not wanting to lose that to quickly, or not at all. But now I’m packing. I’m tucking in. I’m wanting to go. I’m reluctant. It’s all there. The inner is the outer. The outer invites the inner to become more apparent. This is one of the things I tell myself. Again. Surrender, yet not abandon. Chapter Four.

It’s morning. Here’s one of my poems. I’m really intrigued these days by “trouble,” and how one implication of being attentive to trouble, perhaps even resolving some, is that we earn the right to more trouble. Oh dear. Oh well. Well. New life.

an

I’ve Earned Trouble

The heat is too much.
I flake.
I peel.

Yet, thankfully,
I’m intact.

I’m relieved.
I wake.

Old life, go.
I departed.
I’ve earned trouble.
Undeniably, in new life.

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