The Caterpillar Is Not Condemned By The Butterfly

The caterpillar is not condemned by the butterfly

I was looking (in all the wrong places)

for a solution to a riddle

that didn’t exist

That’s how it had to be

That’s how I had to be

We have to be that to become this

Here’s the secret: there’s nothing about you

that needs to be changed,

nothing even a hair’s breadth out of place

Transformation is your very nature;

no admonishments or exhortations are required.

Yet we berate the caterpillar

We’re often at odds with our markings

Struggling, our movement limited to an ungainly crawl,

we long to fly, in the faint belief

that we have wings, somewhere

One day, the time comes, and all activities cease

All further motion is rendered futile

as we turn inward, trust the darkness, and wait.

There Is Nothing To Be Done

I’ve been rationing silence

(As if it were a rare and precious commodity)

Because I knew it would be the death of me

And I had to learn to be willing to die

Stop for too long, and the Divine will claim you as its own

Make sure there aren’t too many cracks where the light can come in

Or you’ll realise that there is nothing to be done

You can’t force this: let it come to you

You do not need to earn or embellish existence

Life Will Move Me, When Movement Is Required

I don't want to talk any more
Neither do I want to move, or respond, or react

My senses - already replete
with tree branches, birds and the sound of the rain - 
need no further stimulation

Why elaborate?
How could this possibly be improved upon?

All my years of meddling achieved nothing
Except my own (inevitable) exhaustion

Life will move me, when movement is required

Until then, I'll look at the sunlit water drops on the window pane
And sip this tea. 

Trust

I trust you completely

I was trying to keep some of it out

I was trying to keep some of it in

There I was, squeezed in the middle

So many frontiers to be guarded

So much vigilance required to prevent encroachment

Protecting and surviving, I yearned for reassurance

The vastness then becomes apparent

It’s all so heartbreakingly beautiful

Every birth, every death

Nothing was ever wrong

Nothing has ever been wrong

Such gratitude. Such grace. Such perfection. 

I Know By Heart

How can I not be with you in your pain?

I know – by heart – the bereftness and grief of loss

I, too, have been seared by scalding, murderous rage

I’ve felt that same sting of guilt and regret

And been on intimate terms with shame

What is there to understand?

It happened, and it hurt

(Things happen, and they hurt)

So let it hurt

Yes, to all that is in you

Yes, yes, to all those hurts, all those unfelt feelings

We’ve waited so long, yet it takes so little

When we give up trying to solve it

And simply let it hurt for a while, together.

I Am All That

A coat of many colours has been made for you

Now, I see:

All I’ve ever wanted is to be here, like this

Finally saying yes to all that I am

All that I am

(As if there could be any debate)

I am all this, without distinction or discrimination

No part greater or lesser

Noting denied

Joseph’s brothers despised him, not because he had the coat,

But because he had the courage to wear it

Knowing he was all that

My dear, a coat of many colours has been sewn for you, too.