Be here now.
Be here with your pounding heart.
Be here with your heavy eyes.
Be here with your empty hands.
Be here with your holey pockets.
Be here with your racing mind.
Be here with others—
the sky, the neighbor,
the love that holds us all,
the parched and blooming earth.
Be here with your gifts when they’re called for.
Be here with your gifts when they’re not.
Be here. Bring your gifts
to the overflowing altar.
Bring your gifts
to the splintered altar, to the pile of ash
that was the altar.
Leave your gifts on the bare ground.
Walk away
and trust that when the rains come,
the earth will take in your gifts,
swaddle and nurture them,
hold their roots as they rise toward the light.
–With thanks to Plum Judy
I am here, now. In Minneapolis. With a new American cell phone number (email/WhatsApp/whatever me if you’d like it and don’t have it yet!).
And on this blog.
And on MailChimp! (Which I was dramatically and gut-wrenchingly locked out of for like a month, but thankfully am now back in. See above about the new American number.)
With a ticket back to Europe in a month and a day.
With a daily increasing anxiety about finding some source of income sooner than later.
With a heart full of love and joy and grief.
With a steady and insistent call like a low church bell, tolling and fading and tolling again, resonance overlapping resonance, ringing my taproot awake and nudging me like the tide—a dancing call I can ignore, am practiced at ignoring, know how to ignore better than I know how to listen to, how to be moved by—but still it’s there filling the air and the spaces between my bones, changing my grip on gravity with every peal and pull, and soon, I’m praying, soon, I will be swept up, soon I will know how to follow, soon I will find my new melody, soon I will find again that sweet life riding that wave of song onward, back, one with every wave—
I’m ready.
And I’m here! And if you’re here, I’d love to see you. Please be in touch!
(Also, if you have any work for me: writing, editing, coaching, consulting on how to find and share your story—which, practically, might mean a script or an article you’re writing, a talk you’re giving, an audition you’re preparing for, a job or college or grant application, a new website, branding for a new venture, etc. I’ll say more, practically, when I’m in a more practical mood. But think of me, please! Especially if you’d like a heart and not an algorithm behind the critical ears.)

2 responses to “What’s Called For”
Great poem! Leaving our gifts in the ashes if there is no altar and trusting. Yeah.
Thank you, Peter!