We will always have stories.
Even as we grow
accustomed to the mind’s
slow silence,
we will have them. If we are lucky,
they will include bowling shoes, a ukulele,
the Ganges, the time the car skidded,
or when the shadow
of the tallest mountain in Sri Lanka
formed a perfect triangle
on the clouds.
How it took us
seven hours in the dark,
chasing the moon, to the top.
Or her smile.
And our minds sing again.
So, tell me yours; I can tell you mine.
For a moment,
let’s be generous, less alone,
more a part of all things,
as we truly are — soft creatures
slowly awakening to our common language.
Anki Sinha
Inspired by Mary Oliver
Walk With Me 