Turn to the Ones Beside You

This time, this life, with just this—

I talk myself dry until it rains & let go.

Up & out I reach into the wide thus‍

of our inescapable interdependence.

Here I find myself included, at home—

among the frightened evacuees & hopeful migrants,

at rest on the earth amidst oxalis’ yellow bloom,

at peace with wind, snow, fire,

all the warming due to burning.

I find myself entirely whole & bereft,

in abundance & scarcity, blame & shame,

within the confusion of word & ideas.

Even great beings are turned around—

so I am turned loudly & I turn again in silence.

This life, this time, with just this—

in one movement I step over grace

& see reflected all that is,

witness myself as more than myself,

each of these parts intrinsic to pattern,

this hard-to-fathom turning.

What is just this? Who yearns?

When & how may come clear—

but why, but why—

why remains pregnant beyond conception.

May I become courageous with you.

May we be justice, just this.

Turn me for good though it confuses

the small me.

Inspire me for love though it frightens

the small me.

Make of my smallness a greening,

a cooling peace, a patience,

a resolve & a blessing

that responds in kind

to all of this.