Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I?
Can't fly, can't run and see how slowly I walk.
Well, I think, I can read books.
"What's that you're doing?"
the green-headed fly shouts as it buzzes past.
I close the book.
Well, I can write down words, like these, softly.
"What's that you're doing?" whispers the wind, pausing
in a heap just outside the window.
Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face.
It doesn't happen all of a sudden, you know.
"Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing
distillation of blue iris.
And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be,
the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.
"Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing" was my line. It made me think of the palm trees surrounding me in Kauai, and the strong winds and rain that would blow through them each day for a brief time. They would bend, and dance with the wind, never losing site of the grounded rootedness, trusting that the wind and rain was temporary and they would stand tall and unscathed once again. It would pass and they had the wisdom to trust this. There were also skeleton-like trees that seemed unmoved by the wind and rain. It just passed through them by design. Someone once told me, that when faced with problems, challenges, questions....look to nature for the answers. I am trying to trust that the pain will blow over soon and that I will remain unscathed, although when it comes it seems as though it will last forever. When I feel good, I feel attached to it, and don't want it to end. I will remain rooted. I will not let the winds of pain uproot me. I might feel like I am breaking, breaking down, breaking open, but maybe this is part of the releasing, the breaking through. I must trust in this.