Listen,
No, not like that.
Don’t consume,
Ears open like wallets or endless mouths.
Stand out of yourself for a moment,
Quiet that fluttering mind:
Flicking channels twice normal speed,
Pop-up advertisements for guilt and greed;
Hush the toddler of self-centre stage,
Teenager of self-loathing screaming rage,
And the old, smug, self-justification.
Simply exist in space,
Float like driftwood and cloud.
Hold all of yourself lovingly
In cupped hands,
Make your hands as big as they need to be,
Enough to hold the sea,
or Milky Way.
Then you can listen,
When listening is unlensed
By the layers that filter,
Cotton to insulate and muffle
Cold truths and hard places.
Realities other than our own,
Hold up mirrors to our compliance,
Show us what we don’t want to see,
Make us uncomfortable.
Open: like a womb,
Open to recieve,
To hold,
To transform, and create.
Strip down to naked skin on a winter beach.
The uncomfortable is where we stop existing
And start to live.
Do you hear that…?
It’s waiting.
Joe Blogs, 2020
Image: notatickler via Pixabay