You are Thirsty

for deep friendship, for letting
yourself be known and seen in all your parts:
raucous old woman screeching at the birds,
shy young girl ashamed of her thoughts,
an owl keeping watch in the night,
a wolf pacing the dark forest,
wandering monk searching for the divine,
poet trying to give voice to prayer,
teacher who cannot help but show the way
even when you embody the question itself.
What else are you, what else but these roles
these pieces that fit a jigsaw puzzle that makes you—
you, the authentic person sparked by the divine, the one,
the only one who can love you in your entirety,
that can witness you as blessing, blessing, blessing:
created as blessing, living your days as blessing,
blessing others with your presence, your attention.
You are thirsting for yourself like sweet, cold water
running under your hand, filling your cup with
something more than moisture, some wildness
that illuminates your slumbering soul, waking it
with a “Gesundheit!” causing it to sprout stout branches
like the elm tree with its small green buds, sunstruck,
that twist into fiery greenery, blazing.

Apatura iris
I Used to Live for Words