Myself Again

Returning to oneself

Let me return

to myself again.

Paper and pen.
Water.
Tea.
Breathe.

Let me learn to
say no to those
things that sweep her and others away. To stand firm on the slopes of life.

That drink,
that dessert,
that wasted time
on the phone.
that orgiastic
ego frenzy.

What are these things?

They are a scared,
fragile human
looking at the vastness
of life trembling
before the grandeur
trying to be something greater—
while what you are is
already eternal
and divine.

We’re all pieces
of the mosaic
of being—the
magic of existence.
All interconnected.
All one.

Nothing about you
or me or them
is separate.

A poem by Pemba Umoja