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Mark Nepo

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Blessings I Have No Words For

Posted: 01/04/2013 1:11 pm

This week's poem is about what we hear in the spaces between all the noise. All meditation practices and all beginnings of art start with such a listening.

But I will try. Sometimes my

heart trembles like a butterfly

in a jar and I'm afraid to let it

out. Yet there are days my heart

is a mountain on which my life

grows. Sometimes when deeply

alone, I can hear the bead of

silence renewing the beginning,

a drop from nowhere enlivening

each moment. This is where my

questions live, in the quiet center

that illuminates our eyes. I believe

the heart-breaking music that pries

us open is the sound of the world

turning on its axis. I believe the

souls kept in the heart become a

tribe. They drum our memory of

them into a sweetness that joins

life and death. No matter the

passage, trust the process you

are in. Receiving the down-

pour, we rise with the stream.


A Question to Walk With: What kind of process are you in right now? What is the world saying to you? Where do you sense you are being led?

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