Job Hunting
Every few years
I come to a point
where I'm floundering:
a rudderless ship,
a leaf on the wind,
cuckoo's child in a strange nest.
What should I do? I ask.
What should I be?
Funnily enough the answer is always the same...
This is my job:
to get up singing
so that the sun will rise
in its glory;
to add my soul's small
gasp of delight
to the chirring chorus
of the waking world;
to stretch like a tree
with my arms held wide;
to capture the wind
and soak in light like water
pouring out of the sky.
I am a cloud child: water, light, salt.
This is my job:
to cradle each heart I touch
tenderly
for it will bloom into beauty;
to dream dreams
extravagant as fish
colored hummingbird-bright
swimming deep in the dark ocean
so that time will turn
like a kaleidescope
and stars will bloom
like bright hearts
in the smiling universe.
