Sunday, September 12, 2010
Long Enough to Know
If our purpose is to communicate, if what we wish most is to touch and be touched and by our touching to learn and grow, that wish demands we set aside our pose. If I am a poet, I must first be human. If I write and draw to make my presence known, if I offer my work as proof of what I think I know, it is as a human that I reach out, and as a human that I succeed and fail.
The longer we hide behind who we’ve contrived to be ourselves, the greater the distance between us. If we worship ourselves in the dim light of our own egos, the incense we burn will choke us all.
I’ve been here long enough to know I can’t go on; and yet the joy of setting out, the astonishment of each new hope, drives me to seek in others what in others is yearning for itself: that bright moment we die freely into life through sorrow shared and health, through breath and word and smile.
If I seem poor, it’s because, as a human, I am.
If wealth is the impression I give, it’s because, as a human, so many riches have come my way.
My life is a waterfall. It knows its seasons, and seizes and thaws in its own good time.
If I seem famous or well known, it’s because, as a human, you long to know yourself.
If I am no one, and I am, it’s because my voice sings the anonymity of ashes and graves.
If I am everyone, and we are, it’s because we’ve inhaled the cosmos.
If I am not enough, what, then, of my dearth? What will you do or say to raise me up?