Blessings I Have No Words For

Read Mark’s weekly reflections on The Huffington Post.

This week’s poem is about what we hear in the spaces between all the noise. All meditation practices and all beginnings of art start with such a listening.

But I will try. Sometimes my

heart trembles like a butterfly

in a jar and I’m afraid to let it

out. Yet there are days my heart

is a mountain on which my life

grows. Sometimes when deeply

alone, I can hear the bead of

silence renewing the beginning,

a drop from nowhere enlivening

each moment. This is where my

questions live, in the quiet center

that illuminates our eyes. I believe

the heart-breaking music that pries

us open is the sound of the world

turning on its axis. I believe the

souls kept in the heart become a

tribe. They drum our memory of

them into a sweetness that joins

life and death. No matter the

passage, trust the process you

are in. Receiving the down-

pour, we rise with the stream.

 

A Question to Walk With: What kind of process are you in right now? What is the world saying to you? Where do you sense you are being led?