by Mikki Baloy
Take a breath, love.
As though time has stopped
(though your tenacious heart will not), pause here. Listen.
In this moment, there is nothing to do but breathe.
Or, if you like, there is nothing to do but move your body in a way
that feels good,
all your dear sinew and flesh rolling like tides or
pounding like drums.
There is truly nothing to do but enjoy the flavor of this bite of chocolate,
nothing to do but laugh with this beautiful friend,
let the sun soak into your bones
or inhale the particular fragrance of this cup of tea
In this moment, all you need do is feel the blades of grass between
and let the broad comfort of sky cover you like a lover’s sheet.
All you have to know is
that you do not have to earn it. How could you, or anyone,
earn such wealth?
One could give her whole life, and still it would not be enough for
this much glory. So, for just this moment,
cease all effort.
You do not have to be better, thinner, happier, stronger or richer.
You do not have to have a mother who loved you or a father who
The World does not need your explanations, or demand the secret
handshake you were never taught.
You do not have to be anything other than what you are, precisely imperfect,
You don’t even have to let go of anything,
although the shame and second-guessing may leave the room quietly
once they’re no longer the center of attention.
Your senses belong only to you. Use them.
Use them extravagantly.
Let them bring you face-to-face with what is already magnificent,
and in this intimacy that was always yours for the asking,
allow grateful desire to overwhelm you.
You cannot die of happiness, so what is it that you fear?
You have nothing to do, except this:
Swim, with eyes and mouth and hands wide open,
through the nectar that surrounds you.
That’s all there is, love.
This. Right here. Take it in.
It was always yours.
© Mikki Baloy