As Inn(er)keeper

A poem I wrote last year, from my heart for my humanity. And maybe yours, too.

For when I discover visitors that feel like they demand more than I can handle as host (innkeeper) of the home of Self.

‘Sleeper’, 35mm © Flory Huang.

My sadness and I need to be together today

She shows up mostly quietly and I know she is here to walk through all the rooms of my house

I make tea, keep the water hot and ready

I cannot worry or rush in a panic when she begins to picks up different objects

She touches them

Examines them

Sets them down

Places them aside

Without my interruption— if I don’t startle her or make demands— she doesn't break a single thing

I am just nearby, both hands full of a heavy vessel of hot water

In my hands, the kettle

In my heart body, vast salty seas and tears infinitely plenty

It’s heavy to carry when she continues to take her time

Separate from mine

My hands only shake because the whole time

It’s hardest to look back into her wide eyes

As we travel from room to room

Eventually

We arrive on why she is here

Without looking away, I quietly and humbly look

As she shows me the objects carried in her bag

Every single item

Some with every color's shades

And different weights

Pain, sorrow, grief, shame, fear, worry, hurt, rage, fury, suffering

Each time Sadness visits me I learn

To touch her different objects back

Examine them

Softly setting them down

Slowly putting them aside

And every time

I don’t break a single thing

04/10/2021