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Unresolution
Because after all these years
of focusing on the goal as if
happiness is a thing I attain
or a place I might finally reach,
now I thrill when I see through
the myth of arrivals.
I see where I have grasped
and clutched and clawed
and scrabbled to be somewhere
not where I am. Not that I regret it.
The memory of grabbing
helps me feel how beautiful it is
each time the hand opens
like a morning to what is here,
opens as if the opening itself
is what I am here to do.
by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
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1 Comment
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Have read this poem several times – and the message is so beautifully expressed … the revelation of what is HERE, NOW – so gently, quietly, unstoppably … with much gratitude and love x
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