I’ve never been much of a poetry reader. Poetry seemed like something I should savor with a cup of tea, and for most of my life, I’ve been moving too fast for that.
But I’ve had a photocopy of a poem for years. I’ve shuffled it back and forth between home and office, put it in a plastic page protector, moved it from file box to notebook to storage bin, and despite many attempts to “get rid of all these papers,” I have held onto this poem.
This year it came up in the surf of decluttering – again. And I decided to save it – again.
I love it so much that I wanted to share it with you.
The Open Door
A door opens. Maybe I’ve
been standing here shuffling
my weight from foot to fot
for decades, or maybe I only
knocked once. In truth, it
doesn’t matter. A door opens
and I walk through without a
backward glance. This is it,
then, the moment of truth in
a lifetime of truth: a choice
made, a path taken, the
gravitational pull of Spirit
too compelling to ignore any
longer. I am received by
something far too vast to see.
It has roots in antiquity but
speaks clearly in the present
tense. “Be” the vastness says.
“Be without adverbs, descriptors,
or qualities.” Be so alive that
awareness bares itself
uncloaked and unadorned.
Then go forth to give what you
alone can give, awake to love
and suffering, unburdened by
the weight of expectations.
go forth to see and be seen,
blossoming, always blossoming
into your magnificence.”
-Danna Faulds, from Root to Bloom