Soul Work

We work the work which is given to us. Once I mothered, and it was beautiful and difficult. Even animals and their needs challenged me. I’ve learned how to protect and how to let go, and still have work to do here. There’s only so much I can do, but I still can’t accept my imperfections.
I want to live in a perfect world, where life is free and easy. It’s ok if I stop growing. Perhaps I’ve learned enough by starting as early as I did. I have poems about summits but now that I’m older, I want to be done with climbing. Let me sit in the sun with a good book and wave to the adventuresome. “Way to go! You can do it!” I’m not getting up.
Let the birds make nests in my hair and my shoes become shabby. I’ve no one to impress. My work is deep and invisible. You might judge me for doing nothing, for not contributing, but you don’t really know me.
No one will give me money for the perfecting of my heart. I swear that it’s a good one. A sweet one. A large one. The best. Perhaps the greatest! My work is to offer my big heart to the world, every day, in whatever way I can, knowing that when I turn away and close it, I’m diminishing my offering.
LBM 5/9/2020
