I used to think that I was needed
but all I was doing was cutting myself
on my own sharp edges.
Rushing from place to place, person to person,
cause to cause, group to group
I didn’t stop long enough
to plant myself into the firm ground
that would nourish – not just my roots –
but by bloodstream, my nerve endings
and the heart of my brain. So –
parts of myself withered without my noticing
until this cold spring day of wind and emergence.
Shadow fights for its own darkness
fearing being seen
for its surprisingly small truth.
And it’s no small effort
to pull it, blind and bleeding,
towards the light, its only healer.
So many will never do it at all.
And that’s a loss to the world.
But here I am, in a loud spring forest,
with nothing, nothing of any consequence
to keep me from the urgent task
of digging and diving
into the warm breathing humus
of this one particular momentary life
and all life.
Everything else, for now,
is of no consequence
if the world is to be saved.