I don’t want to know
about your perfect hair,
your shiny sword of truth,
When you speak,
I hear nothing.
I am too busy looking
for tear streaks and grime,
from dragging around your knicked sword
from the heat of effort.
I do not listen
when someone quips
about letting go of attachment,
unless they have lost everything
they never wanted to let go of.
I am too busy relishing the gifts
that all my attachments
and I dwell in a land that I treasure.
I turn the other way
when you say it should be effortless,
as easy as flying free.
For even birds in the limitless sky
do not simply glide,
to earn their freedom.
I have heard their wings
beat against the wind
and I have seen their heads bobbing
as they climbed against gravity.
Do not seek to end your suffering.
There is more freedom
in gathering up your fallen feathers
and offering them up to God,
than you will ever have,
from trying to keep them all.