In the Eyes of Spirit, I Am Enough
Is this really true?
When I feel constantly
Like I am a tiny seed
That is about to crack open.
I see the truth of “I am enough,”
In a newborn baby,
In a young girl becoming a woman,
In the newness and freshness of the young and just beginning.
But in the middle-aged, old-aged
The full-of-regrets and wish-I-would-have-done-that age
The anxiety-of-floating age,
That weighs like a heavy animal on my chest?
In this pot-belly, relationship-blues, wandering-soul age
In this broke-as-a-bone, 40-something, what-the-hell-am-I-doing age
Am I really and truly
Just as I am?
Yet I hear those words plain as day
Those stubborn, loving words
Those words like a shoulder-shake,
Those words coming from a place beyond reason
Coming from the place where nothing makes sense
Except to the heart.
Yes, yes, yes!
It screams, cries, cajoles, convinces.
In the eyes of spirit
I am enough.