Day Five
a poem a day in the month of may
Bloom
I have been watching and waiting,
dear ones,
so closely,
wondering when you’ll show us your faces.
I’m waiting in that tender space,
speaking in whispers around you,
making sure you have what you need,
remembering that water is life,
that sunlight gives us courage.
I’m waiting for you to show me your face,
to bloom yourself across some horizon.
You will show up when you’re ready,
I’m sure of it,
and until then,
I’ll remain as curious as a child
and as patient as I can be.
When you bloom,
you’ll change the world
again,
and you’ll show me what it means
to sit at the feet of wisdom
and learn what kinship is all about.
A special note: today I am celebrating that my book, Native, has been out in the world for two years!
Last year on the one-year anniversary of its release, my publisher celebrated with me, along with friends Asha Frost, Joel Leon, and Barbara Brown Taylor, Lessons from Native—you can check it out below.
And if you’re willing, please grab a copy of Native for yourself or a friend this week! I’m so grateful to be a writer and share my stories with you all.
Blessed is the bloom
Who knew what it meant to lie dormant
That prospers at the proper time
Who embraces rest not as status
But as state of being
Who accepts the gentleness of rain
Even on days when hope is scarce
And proof of growth is sparse
Who trusts the seed to sprout anyway
Blessed are we who don't rush our flourishing
Or softening,
Who when weary need
Sunshine & water & patience,
A salvation indeed
To learn the way of flowers
Dandelion’s toothy petals
dance beside the violets
and the tiny blue Veronicas—
a riot of spring,
sprinkled with redbud petals.
But how do I get lost
in the revelry
when my insides feel like dust?
How do I drift along the blooms like a honeybee
when the cares of a whole globe
tear at my throat?
Teach me your ways, first flowers of spring:
teach me to open myself
again and again and again and again.