it is here

It is here

Imagine the deliciousness of letting 
        go, like 
    			into the deep
sea of sleep, allowing  yourself to 
                         s – t – e – p 
                         the cliff’s 
                   y			edge 
discovering	  l
         you can f		sky 
    			into the 
or even float
   like a boat
	in the vastness of the water

        from your	grasping
		        constant seeking
				        of light
It is here
	in the most ordinary
of opening yourself
into the 
now of what is. 

I had fun playing with formatting on this one. At some places it’s difficult to read, although I hope you found it a fun little adventure. ;]

the days are nouns

Rovinj, Croatia
Daily by Naomi Shihab Nye

These shriveled seeds we plant,
corn kernel, dried bean,
poke into loosened soil,
cover over with measured fingertips
These T-shirts we fold into
perfect white squares
These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips
This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl
This bed whose covers I straighten
smoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanket
and nothing hangs out
This envelope I address
so the name balances like a cloud
in the center of sky
This page I type and retype
This table I dust till the scarred wood shines
This bundle of clothes I wash and hang and wash again
like flags we share, a country so close
no one needs to name it
The days are nouns: touch them
The hands are churches that worship the world

I first came across this poem over at Karl Duffy’s Mindfulbalance blog. I found it to be a lovely reminder of the peace that’s possible amidst my day-to-day activities, and how, in a way, we are all connected through the act of taking care, of living.