Telling: Streams & Logs

Poetry

surrender

There are days when all there is
is surrender.

My heart churns like a rotor out of water
chewing up all advances
turning back on its own tenderness.

Some silences will not wait forever.
They come to claim me.

This is the blood of my days and nights.
This is the blood of my doing and being.
This is the blood of my calm and careful listening.

Some days all there is is surrender.