Poems From The Porch
photo by Brett Meliti on Unsplash.com
Riding The Wave To Shore
The mystic morning is dawning
with delicate haze melting into pink.
The soft grey mystery is lying low in the fields,
hinting the revelation of the magis.
There is an unsettled place within me,
poised on the precipice of commitment.
I feel the answer choosing me,
my hesitation, the only question,
a player recruited and selected
to play in the first round.
Affirmations, like road signs,
indicate in neon obviousness,
my predestined course.
The resistance I feel asks,
“Is it enough? Will it hold your interest?”
“Is this who you want to be?”
And alas, we’ve gotten to the bottom of it
—a question of identity—
the subterfuge and folly now revealed.
“Is this whom you want to be seen as? to be known as?
Will this truly make an impact?”
Productivity. Accomplishment. Fame.
If pride is removed
and the need to be special,
the “Yes” becomes clear;
for the river is rushing
and the tide is pushing
and rolling relentlessly,
toward a chosen shore.
Not chosen by me, though,
for I am dogpaddling,
resisting the thrust
and feeling despair
in my own obstinance.
“What harm is there in riding the wave to shore?”
I certainly cannot anticipate the wonders of the journey.
Ah yes, I have felt this way before,
dug my heels in and opposed the pull of Love.
I remember it now and the moment I let go,
the instant I decided to put my faith in Love.
I recall the visual representation of my limiting belief
and also, the feeling of release
when I finally allowed myself to be led;
Led to the more,
to the magis,
Looking back at that time long distant,
I wouldn’t trade here