I will sit here a while.
A long while.
The wind will blow.
The sun will heat the back of your neck.
Grasses will rustle.
I will be still enough
I can hear the bees as they suckle
the last of the thistles.
I can hear my own breath
and the ocean, just over the ridge.
It is the off season
and there is a good chance
you will see no one.
Just me and God and his creation,
a world so big I can empty yourself in it
and the world will be no smaller,
I will become larger in my emptiness.
The poison expunged. Not lost,
found, suddenly light
as the wind.
About this poem
I am sneaking off to Cape Cod for a few days. Time to empty out.