Small in Your Presence

I’ve been spending the month of August contemplating how small and vulnerable I feel as I grow older. Years ago, these thoughts would make me anxious and afraid. Now, these feelings make me feel in sync with the world. Growing older is the natural course of things. All of us grow older, and all of us will die. It’s how we live with the years we have that I am thinking about. I don’t want to grow old worrying constantly. I want to concentrate on being grateful for this time I’ve been given. Recently, I’ve been reading Rilke, specifically Books of Hours: Love Poems to God, and as I was reading, this poem came into my mind. The small things, the things that sometimes seem inconsequential, often turn out to be essential to lifelong contentment.

Shell

I am small
in your presence,
Simply made
by a wise hand,
Fragile fragment
of something
that once lived.

I am silent 
in your presence,
Wonderfully made 
by a gentle hand,
Beach cathedral
with spires
reaching skyward.

I am alone
in your presence,
Carefully made
by a distant hand,
Within me rises
sorrow’s song -
still and hopeful.

I am rough
in your presence,
Patiently made 
by a loving hand,
Inside, I am
smooth and luminous,
I cherish the light.

I am ancient
in your presence,
I break apart and unfold
In a grateful hand,
Once closed,
I am now open -
beautiful and shimmering.