I’ve been having fun falling for a new (to me) poet, Tara Mohr. This morning, contemplating my brave choice to relax with the piles of paper on my desk and that sense of “It’s ok for me to be as I am” reminded me of this poem of hers which I’d like to share. It speaks to the paradox of the journey of becoming ourselves – at last. I love it.
by Tara Mohr
The warmth of the hearth in my chest
and the breath of warm enoughness
and something like love in my throat,
a dense goodness covering –
all this: because I am home.
Because I fought the fight,
as difficult as Odysseus’ journey.
I slayed dragons, and scaled steep peaks,
laid down in a bed with fear,
and walked through the woods in the night.
A thousand trials to get home.
Yet the journey was also
Dorothy clicking her heels three times,
being instantly transported there,
Homecoming like rain, like grace –
without struggle or trial or mud.
The long road and the non-road home.
It’s as simple as knocking and as far
as a thousand miles to get there.
In that home place, I can see:
nothing was ever broken.
Warmth savors up from our chests like a hearth
and love is in our throats, lunging outward,
and the world is a basket of gifts,
and we sit in it, just sit,
and tears rise, at the intensity of it.
aaaahhhhh, the deep sigh of being touched.
I love that.
It’s as simple as knocking and as far as a thousand miles.
Isn’t that true? When we remember, it’s as simple as knocking. When we don’t, it’s as far as a thousand miles.
May we all feel that breath of warm enoughness, and recognize the world as a basket of gifts….
And right here for me, tears do rise at the intensity of it.
Thanks for being a part of my community!
With love and my best wishes,