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

Enough

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.