At Last

Listen to the birds

outside the door

speaking in song

I ask myself

Am I truly listening 

or am I merely waiting

to speak?

We must often do the impossible

and reconcile the world 

with our own heart.

I grow older but I do not grow 

more numb to the world.

I grow older and I feel myself

a greater part of humanity.

My joy and disappointment 

are mirror images.

I grow older and realize 

I must be gentle with 

the fractured and broken.

All of us are so.

I grow older and cannot 

consume blindly and 

without thought.

I must have restraint.

Does the deer dream?

Does it dream of the forest?

Of fresh water?

A quiet valley?

A land without fear?

Some mornings

I sit and must remind myself

that no feeling is final

that I must breath

that this is all there is

this eternal present

this perpetual gift

All these words

All these thoughts

like leaves on a tree

sharing a branch

sharing a body

living

changing

returning home

at last