“In some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.”
― Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
Could I be grateful for even this?
Could I love even this?
Could I train in seeing meaning
in everything around me,
and could this meaning
bring an end to my suffering?
I wrote this poem yesterday.
Believe me, it’s true.
At least that’s what the date stamp says.
Actually, I’m writing this poem now.
Part of it is already written
and another part waits to be born.
Where is the self in this forest of personalities?
Which tree holds the door
to ultimate possibility?
What if I just didn’t write a poem today?
And I realized that even just that one question
is a poem.
Give life a chance to surprise you.
Just relax and trust that all is well.
The alternative is to stress out
and fear that everything is horrible.
Which sounds better to you?
Sitting here wondering why.
I managed to find a safe space within myself
and then he pulls the rug out again.
And now I’m falling again,
and the floor opens up,
and the earth opens up,
and I fall clear to the other side
And I’m free falling again.
When will the ground hold?
When will my safe space
extend to a place outside of myself,
a space where he can’t bother me,
a space that’s mine
and mine alone?
I want to stop trying so hard to be good.
I want to just touch on
my own inherent goodness
and allow it to be enough
for this moment.
I can see our innocence.
I can see how much we try.
I can see that he is doing his best
and so am I.
Could I forgive him
for having this affair?
Could I forgive his mistress
for sleeping with a married man
who has two children and a wife
that he left to be with her?
Could I see her innocence too?
If I can allow others to be who they are
and do what they do
and love them anyway,
there is hope I can afford myself
the same kindness.
I have this question bouncing around in my mind.
It has something to do with responsibility,
evolution, speciation, becoming, belonging.
It isn’t fully formed.
It’s just the feeling of a question.
I’m not looking for an answer.
I just want to ask the question.
I want to know what it is,
find the words,
and just ask.