My grandest feat?
It isn’t written in the stars.
No brassy mark, no heavy crown,
no history written to pin me down.
It was learning how to yield.
To yield the field,
to cede the right to reign,
and let a quiet, sweet harvest
grow out of the grain.
I spent my youth making points;
sharp and precise,
duly noted, neatly filed:
only to find the sharpest mind
is easily beguiled
by its own pointlessness.
So I retired the lead.
I stopped drawing blood
and started drawing breath.
My highest wave was stepping back.
An act of agape...
mouth left wide,
standing aghast at the sheer, un-earned grace
of being caught in time and place.
I stopped trying to stay current,
and simply let the current be.
I untied the knot,
and found that not holding on
was the only thing that set me free.
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