Take a deep breath in – count – two…three…four…
and out again
Is it there yet? Did you find it? That poem you were looking for?
You might have left it under the bench at mass.
Or maybe you packed it in your kids lunchbox.
You might have heard a murmer of it on your husband’s lips as you kissed him, warm from sleep
Or seen a glimmer of it in that old friend’s eyes when it looked like he might be crying
it was definitely there
Keep hold of it now…
It is your poem and your story and your work and your playing
It is the dream you haven’t dreamed yet and the fears you have not yet begun to dread
Be bold, you who carries with you all the power of your weakness
You who holds in you the might of frailty
You who births and dies and feeds and starves and loves and dies some more
You who is the manwomanhumanmotherfather child and poem in us all.