You will have to decide

if you want this—

want the blessing

that comes to you

on an ordinary day

when you are minding

your own path,

bent on the task before you

that you have done

a hundred times,

a thousand.

 

You will have to choose

for yourself

whether you will attend

to the signs,

whether you will open your eyes

to the searing light, the heat,

whether you will open

your ears, your heart

to the voice

that knows your name,

that tells you this place

where you stand—

this ground so familiar

and therefore unregarded—

is, in fact,

holy.

 

You will have to discern

whether you have

defenses enough

to rebuff the call,

excuses sufficient

to withstand the pull

of what blazes before you;

whether you will

hide your face,

will turn away

back toward—

what, exactly?

 

No path from here

could ever be

ordinary again,

could ever become

unstrange to you

whose seeing

has been scorched

beyond all salving.

You will know your path

not by how it shines

before you

but by how it burns

within you,

leaving you whole

as you go from here

blazing with

your inarticulate,

your inescapable

yes.

—Jan Richardson © Jan Richardson. janrichardson.com