Would I not be blind,
nor deaf,
nor in any way
insensate to
the rushing and
sometimes crushing
roar and glory and ferociousness
of life-
the thunder and lullaby of it,
the tooth and claw and purr of it;
to dance under
untold candles glittering
the swirling indigo sky-ways,
celebrating diamonds
and coal-
knowing they are but the same;
thanking the breath and the beat that
drains the last drop
from each cup of rapture or pang,
every moment unsure
whether the lady or the tiger
will appear at my door.
Nor would I sleep-walk
my way through
this wondrous maze
of possibilities,
sacred stairways leading to
pain or pleasure-those two sides
of one coin;
those spiraling-ever-upward paths where
I meet myself
coming and going,
laden with roses-
their perfume and their thorns;
oh, that I refuse
to drink the dregs of distraction
or numb myself
with the daze of hurry,
the haze of sloth,
but cherish instead the spacious and
gracious places of peace;
that I greet as a treasured friend
the incessant and raucous
rooster in my soul.
I only wish to be awake,
wide-eyed
and bold enough
to see
and welcome both
abundance
and dearth;
to flee from neither
a heart on fire
nor a heart made mosaic-
only mirror images of the same passion;
oh, to hear the mountains singing and
see the trees of the field clap their lighthearted hands,
to gaze upon vines newly planted
and immediately savor their effervescent joy.
But if I am to be blind,
then let
the dazzling brilliance of coal
brave enough
to become
beauty
take my sight;
and if I am to sleep,
let the cause of my sweet slumber
be the inhaling so deeply
from the candle-lighter’s
intoxicating cup
of love.
– Robin Church (my momma)
April 17, 2012