Day 24: Purpose
a poem a day, y'all...
Whew, friends,
How’s it going? So many of you have personally reached out to let me know how much this month means to you, whether you share your poems in the comments section or not.
Poetry gets that energy out of our bodies in a very cathartic way, doesn't it? In that sense, poetry is hope, because we can’t bottle up all of this. We’ve got to let it out, with words, with poetry, with movement, with friendship, with faith, with creativity.
So, here we are, day 24.
And our word is purpose.
I heard someone speak once about how exhausting it is to feel like we have some grand purpose, some reason, some gifting for every little bit of who we are. But my whole life it’s been about the gift, the purpose, the reason for every little thing. So how do we hold it? Is there a space between, a liminality, where we can explore our gifting while holding it loosely, where we can express ourselves in the world without feeling like its weight is ours to bear? I honestly don’t know, but here I am, trying every damn day to do just that. Is that purpose enough?
When I worry about my purpose
I remember the chickens I used to have.
They had elevator music playing in their heads
But by golly, they were focused.
They pecked and scratched
And searched for bugs
And dust-bathed and sun-bathed
As if the world depended on it.
And why shouldn't they?
This is what chickens do.
So when I pick up a pencil
To draw or to write,
When I make food and share food
And walk in the sun,
I have found my purpose after all:
This is what humans do.
P U R P O S E
It is both the fire and the sanctuary
My propulsion and my rest
My burden and my release
Burning urgency and steadfast patience
Fierce and fragile
Consuming and also quietly calm
I will hold you with loving care.
Become acquainted with your desires.
Kindle you and let you stoke my flames
Soothe you and let you ground me here