I know what I amĀ (so clearly and gently she shows me).
The world of bluegreen tree leaves and splashes of sunlight in the grass.
The toss of a cluster of green in tangles of vines all flashing with the breeze.
In the light and in the dark of it, the golden yellows and deep blues and greens
and the smell of decaying browns from the compost
she shows me.
I am just this.
Brought forth just as the shoot from the soil, growing up and out, unfolding.
Not for myself, not alone, but the same as, in the same breath as, with the same matter of,
the ground
the trees
the grass and vines and bushes and birds and cats and squirrels in the yard.
I am alive.
I have a purpose.
I am alive, bluegreen with the tree leaves
and decaying brown with the dirt
and golden in the sun
and silver beneath the moon.
She brought me forth like she does all the rest, but she is not other than the rest, she is us, me.
I have a purpose and my purpose is this very living moment. Unfolding. Already perfect.
And all the little things that have brought themselves together as me
the thoughts and memories
ideas and skills and behaviors and
frailties and strengths
were never meant to be tangled over
to become distressed over what I am or who I should be or how I should be
identity only a song
with a shifting and dynamic melody
changing.
And my purpose like every purpose of every living thing
to reach out a hand
to give out everything there is to give
without limit
because there is only all of this, of us, growing and living and becoming and dying.
I saw life and death passing by one another reaching out hands to caress, gently,
as old familiar lovers
without haste or suspicion or doubt
knowing they are forever and perfectly
intimate
and they let their gaze pass between them and through me
this brief space, where I am both of them
living and dying.
And my only purpose to be
living and dying
with all I have, withholding nothing
giving out to every other in every moment
for their own living and dying
just a hand a smile a touch a word
we are together
you are not alone
I am just you looking back, at you, me at me
known and safe and loved
to hold and to heal.