Let It Open Me

Writing this from the Big Island of Hawaii, though the poem was written before we came.  I've been meaning to put it out, and I guess now's the time!  The photo is from our ohana on a mango farm in Captain Cook.

Let it open me –

            the pained lungs,

            the aching stomach,

            the morning sadness.

Let it open me –

            the small flock of birds winging west,

            the reach of the nearby redwood trees,

            the sound of children’s footsteps overhead.

Let it open me –

            the fears attending the aging body,

            the grief over a friend’s death,

            the water dripping through the ceiling.

Let it open me –

            the warmth of the bath,

            the sweet spiciness of morning tea,

            the flickering candles on my writing table.

Let it open me -

            this advice of

            the Buddhist teacher

            I read every morning.

This is the work –

            opening, opening, opening

            whether in pain and sorrow

            or in joy and gratitude.

She says - life is not for

            seeking safety and pleasure,

            nor for running from

            pain and suffering.

We must, I must,

            receive everything,

            breathe it in and

             let all of it

open me.