I really needed this poem today. This is a poem for a bad day. Picture me in a doctor’s waiting room, crying, wearing one of those SARS-era face masks with hair as out of control as an ’80s prom queen. No, I’m not dying. But I have swine flu and a sinus infection, and my ride was late to get me, and I felt like shit. It was the feeling of ALONE that really got to me. Worse than loneliness somehow, aloneness is piercing, and you feel it in your gut. Alternatively, that could’ve been my flu meds. I’m glad to be home eating soup. I’m glad I had a good cry, even if too many people saw it. And I’m glad 30 Rock is on Netflix instant stream. xo, m
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.