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Thursday, November 3, 2022

November


When morning breaks dark grey
outside my window, and my heart 
is quiet in the peace and safety
of my small rooms, I remember
years when I longed for a life shared,
when being alone was to be feared,
to be passed over, to be left.
It was inevitable that my soul needed
to learn aloneness. Solitude taught me
peace; the wild world taught me love.
Enraptured by sky and trees,
ocean and wolves and dogs,
I found just being was enough.

It's ten years, twenty years, later, now,
still traveling on my own by preference.
Once more, it is November. Winter storms
lie just ahead, when the pounding waves
will sing my soul into joy; the trees will dance
like dervishes in the wind, as bears
and wolves seek tunneled passages
at the base of ancient cedars
for protection from the rain. All winter,
they will dream of salmon and berries
until springtime comes again.

When morning breaks dark grey
outside my window, I remember
all this pilgrimage has taught me
that I could not have learned
any other way.

 Inspired by the poem "Ten Years Later" by David Whyte

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