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.

Life Has No Need of Happy Endings

All life wants is to know itself

To know and to be known

To be seen, touched, sensed, experienced

Life has no need of happy endings:

When you drop your demand for it to please you

When you’re no longer screaming for it to make you happy

It unashamedly delights in itself, in its own sheer miraculousness

Life sends forth its invitation to you every day

And you, making your myriad excuses, usually decline

Because you know that if you say yes

Your very own ten thousand things, your wonderful, labyrinthine creations

(The mes and yous, hims and hers, its and thems)

Will lose their substance, their gravity, around which you revolve

Once you finally stop spinning – even for a moment -

You’ll see that all life is here (for there is nothing Out There)

And unadorned, sublime, it truly has no need of happy endings

When You Wish It Were Not So

You wish to fashion life, to carve it according to your desires

At times, you sculpt carefully, delicately;

A corner rounded off here, an edge whittled away there,

Seemingly without violence

More often though, your cuts are swifter, frantic, more desperate

As you hack away at everything you wish were not so

Despite your efforts to excise all that you dislike

Life – whilst it may appear, at first, to conform to your will –

Has a tendency to remain stubbornly, brazenly whole

It keeps all those discarded, broken, misshapen pieces for you

Knowing that, one day, you will need them: they are essential to your survival

For they are the very thing that your soul most craves

Then, when all the defences have been stripped away

When there’s not a single fibre or sinew left to hold you upright

When struggle, effort and opposition are ablaze on the pyre

And you are prepared to fall on the sword of what was and what wasn’t

You realise there was never anything missing

Despite this loss of incalculable proportions

All is intact. You’re whole. You’re here. 

For All Those Who Have Been Humiliated

I’ve been holding out

Believing that patience is a virtue

When, in truth, I am beyond frustration

To save you from the offence of having to take me as I am

I died a little every day

I toned myself down, made myself smaller

Dulled it all a little

No stride, no demands

I went underground

Thinking I’d find solace in the subterranean depths

Except: this cannot be contained or constrained

Nor should it be

This is what no-one could see

This is what was hidden

Now, out in the daylight, blinking a little uncertainly

Yet breathing that much more easily

I’m thankful.

All That Matters

You’re here, sweet one

And that’s all that matters

You think you have to be someone

Do something, go somewhere

But there’s only ever this

And there’s only ever you

This is all You ever wanted:

The mere fact of my presence

My sheer existence, nothing more

Whatever my shape

Whatever the skin I’m in

Whichever side of any line I’m on

All the rest irrelevant

I realise that now

All – all – that matters

Is that you’re here, sweet one. 

Home

Yes, yes, I’ll come

I always knew I would

But had no idea how to start

Now, tentatively, I begin

Each step tiny, vulnerable

Faltering, always allowing

For the possibility of falling back

Yet the movement arising within

Knows its own way home

And has no need of a guide

Love beyond imagining

There's Nothing Wrong Here

There’s nothing wrong here

Yes, you’re hurt, but that’s the point

To break open, to give up, to lay down your weapons

Your plans, your strategies, your objections

To finally say yes

It never had anything to do with working it out or understanding it

All you need do is see, and you’re already seeing

How could we have known?

It’s utterly innocent, and devastatingly beautiful

God is this

God is this floor, and this tune, and this cushion, and this nearly-cold tea

This pen, this hand, and this breath

Even the separation was never separate

Even the fading was always in full view

We’ve exhausted ourselves going precisely nowhere

Now we can hold hands and rest