yesterday
I walked up to the peep hole
of my mind
a brown, knotted
hole in the barn door
i’d built
to hide
what i might not become.
I looked through that crack
touching what I really want
with a raven’s eye,
my life to be.
It’s not so much the sight
of a tumbling garden
the shaded sheep grazing
a bun of gray hair
spun up by wilting, happy hands -
it was the brave act
of gazing
towards an opening.
the wild life
the sober life
aligned with The Divine
that will be
mine.