I Am Not Juggling

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I Am Not Juggling

I am not juggling

I put down the balls/plates/the knives

To feed and drink from a well of my longing

To let my soul soak in a river of words

And be renewed

To remind myself that I am nothing and everything

That the earth does not need me to be in motion

In order for the world to turn

But while I’m on the planet it matters….

I have decided to say no

But not in a theoretical way

I am offering my “no” as a sacrifice to love

On the altar of my survival

My mother once told me that if I died tonight

You would figure out how to live without me

You ask me if I’m sad

And the truth is, I am just human

Holding on in the early dark of night

Between wake and sleep

And dreams that bid me explain myself

While I wait on daybreak,

And my eyes squint tightly to resist

The pain of sunshine

I have known hurt—this much is true

But I also have wrapped myself so tightly

Around a lover that my arms ached

And that embrace became a prayer

Into the universe, begging

Juggling between want and need

Longing to be in control

Of what has never been controllable

Explain this:

Why do we insist on the grind,

The treadmill of time and the taste of frantic

When we could be still and soak in

The sweet grace of breath

Feel our face touched by the hand

Of a grandmother who loves us so much

That teacakes are a natural progression?

Today I swore to myself that my life

is scripture enough

To love me is to love god

And after years of trying to coordinate

The rhythm of three plates for two hands

I have reminded myself that my mother

Was a prophet:

If I died tonight, you would find a way

To go on without me

And I would have missed the opportunity

To enjoy the words of poets

Who like me wonder how much

Of life had been sliced by a knife

Of success into nothingness

And whether they have sold

Their lives for balls and chains

When they could have been writing poetry

So today,

I will not wait to take a break

Next week or the following Sunday

Or come Christmas season

To be still and know

That while I’m on this planet,

It matters that I’m here

And that I am a poet

© Valerie Bridgeman

November 2009