Instructions for the Journey

The self you leave behind

is only a skin you have outgrown.

Don't grieve for it.

Look to the wet, raw, unfinished

self, the one you are becoming.

The world, too, sheds its skin:

politicians, cataclysms, ordinary days.

It's easy to lose this tenderly

unfolding moment. Look for it

as if it were the first green blade

after a long winter. Listen for it

as if it were the first clear tone

in a place where dawn is heralded by bells.

And if all that fails,

wash your own dishes.

Rinse them.

Stand in your kitchen at your sink.

Let cold water run between your fingers.

Feel it.