Here Beyond Life As We Know It

 
 
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Life as we know it has been canceled. 

The millions of urgent tasks 

we crudely stacked together to construct a 

shaky house of safety and worth—

shattered.

Looking back, 

through the fragments

we can see

how fragile

a life we’ve been desperate to create,

and how we chose not to look

at each other as human,

at the earth as an audaciously grand,

exquisite living force, 

at the truth 

that we are not in control,

and the mandate 

that our bodies will die

in the end.

No wonder we have all been so anxious,

and angry,

for so long.

No wonder we are tired 

and unable to rest.

Now,

our badges of busy,

shredded 

to a stop.

Nowhere to go, 

just here

where it’s quiet 

and we can hear the earth speak again.

Here, where we are being asked to forge 

a new relationship with time,

and listen better,

to ourselves, each other

and the layers of fear and doubt 

that echo from the hollow of uncertainty.

Here, where the myth of separation falls apart,

and we can begin to make amends 

for the thousands of ways 

we have become estranged from ourselves, 

and so began to outcast the others.

Here, where we cannot outrun our sadness,

and are left to feel the weight 

of all that we’ve loved

and longed for.

Finally, free 

to grieve it all.

Here, where presence is a real possibility,

and, at last, 

there is room for rest.

Here, where we have the time 

to reach out to one another

simply

listening with an open mind,

praying with an open heart,

singing from an open window,

in hopes that the touch of our love 

finds and blesses

the one 

that is lonely or afraid.

As we all are forced to slow

to the rhythm of real life,

and the whole world stands still,

we are left with no other task

but to allow the pieces to fall 

where they may.

And now, 

all of this momentum stops

at a risky proposition:

What if we don’t pick the pieces back up?

What if we let it all break down into compost,

to create the rich ground 

from which we can begin 

to begin again?

What if life re-imagined 

is already starting to germinate here?

I do feel these tender roots 

spindling down, spreading out,

taking hold

in the soil of myself.

They are delicate and enticing,

but the possibility they are

could be easily ripped out

by a notion doubt.

Though wildly unreasonable, 

I trust,

if we dare to stay empty,

here in the hush,

beyond the self-important rush,

and surrender well,

perhaps we will be given 

another chance,

yet to become…

 
poemsMeg McCraken