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.