"Crossing Some Ocean In Myself"
(Mark Nepo)
Half a century, and finally,
what I feel is what I say
and what I say is what I mean.
What I mean is that others,
so used to my gargantuan efforts to be good,
don’t understand my efforts to be real.
They find me coming up short.
I’m simply burning old masks.
And the next step takes me–
I don’t know where–
as it should be–
I don’t know
just that I love who I love.
I listen with my heart.
I struggle with the reflexes of my mind.
I mean, the pains of life are sharper now
but disappear more clearly the way
knives are swallowed by the sea.
And the subtleties of being come on
like waves that cleanse but which,
when dry, cannot be seen.
So much like a gentle animal now,
unsure what I was fighting for,
except to breathe and sing, except
to call out the human names of God
that others have uttered when
thoroughly stripped of their plans.
So much like a love animal now
until the end of any day’s work
is the soft moment
when loving and being loved
are the same.
All year round,
the birds and trees instruct,
make visible the wind
the way reaching without shame
makes visible the love.
"Crossing Some Ocean In Myself"
by Mark Nepo,
from his volume of collected poetry,
This poem was featured in Dan Keusal's
Summer 2017 e-newsletter,
"The Cure for Sanity."