The Doorway Of My Heart

The Doorway Of My Heart

It is raining, 

soft and purifying, 

melancholy sky,

my heart is a tender doorway, 

many things are passing through 

and I try not to brace against their passage.

My heart a fiercely feeling conduit 

between now and before and the yet to come, 

between the given and the withheld,

between the manifest and the gestating,

seeding space for tomorrow’s fruition. 

It is a vessel beyond time, 

so that which once was, 

is conjured now by some mysterious dreaming, 

the sense of it come suddenly present again, 

and all the futile longing for it to be other

than what it is

and this presencing that comes,

it’s time has come to be wept for 

and so I weep, 

like the rain, soft and purifying.

My sadness seeding the fertile ground 

of my becoming,

and I try not to brace against its passage,

for it is what is asked of me,

inside this particular eternal moment,

what is asked 

beyond thought and hope,

just to love what it is that rises inside,

just this melancholy sky

and the doorway of my heart

and all of life, 

passing through.

© Lucy Pierce 2018