Don't Try

Don't try not to try.

Effort is a faint breath
dismantling the chrysanthemum,

whirling the slivers away
to stem nakedness, 
hollow as gold.

What sort of practice is that?

Who was trying?

The bright doomed petals?

The September breeze?

Let your effort flower,
fail and fall

into laughter and tears,

a compost of calamities

where you might discover priceless

ancient jewels of imperfection

sprouting from your

grandmother's bones.

The way morning glories

entangle a gravestone.

The way an abandoned quarry

becomes the rookery of a thousand herons.

Ask a mushroom why

it grows in the dark.

Use grief mulch for orchids of joy.

Let chaos sting you awake
and decay caress you

with mycelium fingers

of unanticipated beauty.

Dance in the ruins of your discipline.
Don't try not to try.

 

Photo by Steve Axford