I’ve been
resisting enlightenment,
the bright lights
shone on my shadows
as shards
slicing into my soul.
“Just let go,”
the Goddess softly urges,
“Embrace my design;
it will nourish
just
so.”
The sullen wind
lashes my reluctant face,
bruising my embarrassment,
as I hide from my own jubilation.
Oh but if I dance,
what if I miss
the next bump
to steal my bliss.
“But my boy,
bliss is found in the trip,
surrendering to gravity,
you have nothing
but the trust
you will land
the right way.”
Memories remind
of chances gained
when it seemed too late,
when the cards seemed stacked:
Scavenging for scraps
from airport tables,
no one suspecting
a vagrant with no cents
and just enough sense
to trust in the flagrant jump.
Tumors invading my frame,
doctors sure of my fate,
given 13 months to live.
But God visited me
in the middle waking dream
“You’re one of my favorites,
you’ll be ok.”
A new lease on life.
No one could see,
blindfolds held,
so I would trust.
So I just let go,
sometimes seconds after seconds,
a staccato song,
this I don’t know,
I’m free,
free to be wrong.
Clay The Scribe 