The doorway – a listening poet

Trapped inside myself, I heard your voice,
the gentle offering you placed in the doorway.

You offered to listen. I opened up just a little.
You stepped so softly… as if entering
a place of prayer.

You didn’t look for a light switch,
bring a flashlight, open the blinds,
or try in any way to illuminate
my space.

You sat quietly beside me
in the dark.

I talked in stops and starts
becoming smoother as you listened.

You didn’t jump in, preach or rant,
judge me, entertain or chant.

I unburdened, articulated,
and could feel my breath… slowing.

You didn’t tweet, text, check your phone,
or update your online status to “listening.”

I don’t know when the door blew open,
but a natural light filled the room.

Through that generous, open space,
stirred a breeze of fresh, breathable air.

As you listened, my thoughts began to clarify,
opening to a knowing voice deep inside.

You helped me find my voice,
my center and my smile.

You say you didn’t do a thing.
You simply listened.

Thank you for all that you didn’t do
and all that you did by listening.

By Linda Eve Diamond

2 gedachtes over “The doorway – a listening poet

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