There just isn't enough poetry in the world. Or enough real conversation for that matter. So often I ache to go deeper, and then deeper still. The sad part? I rarely do. I ran across this today, and it hit me right where my heart is lately...
The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
This is reprinted with permission from Adventures in Babywearing.
2 comments:
You are right, there is not enough real conversation in this world. I sat with a friend whose husband committed suicide six months ago one night this week. As we looked through her wedding album, she told me how she was really feeling. I was reminded that so often when you ask someone how they are, they say "fine".... I am glad that I asked "are you really" after she said fine. In this connected world we are often not really connected....
WOW- that's beautiful!
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