Vital

How the days go by,
August now flowing
into September,
the beginning
of another season.

All the while,
I am busy
just holding onto
this train that is my life
as it barrels ahead
through change after change,
always trying
to regain my balance,
focused on
whatever comes my way,
most of it
beyond my control,
beyond even
my immediate world,
so that thoughts
of peace
or purpose
or steadiness
seem out of reach.

Survive.
Adapt.
Make it through.

But I am a poet
and aren’t we all?
Isn’t our job
to find a way
to dig deep,
to carve out a space
from the frenzy and fear
to listen
to the still, small voice
of Spirit?

Sometimes,
in my franticness,
I think that my very life
depends on my holding on,
when really,
that which is vital
depends on my
letting go.

By Maria Brady-Smith