When I was a teenager, I wrote copious amounts of bad poetry.
When I was a young adult, I read fair quantities of wonderful poetry.
As parent, I hardly have time to wash my face.
Which is why I was so pleasantly surprised listening to a podcast on my commute this morning where poet David Whyte read “Everything is Waiting for You.”
Years of infertility and the loss of my mom made me feel so intensely alone. This poem is a beautiful reminder of how not alone we all are, if we chose to live with intent.
Everything is Waiting for You
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
— David Whyte
from Everything is Waiting for You
©2003 Many Rivers Press