top of page

Monday's poem

by David Whyte

Ten Years Later

When the mind is clear

and the surface of the now still,

swaying water

slaps against

the rolling kayak,

I find myself near darkness

paddling again to Yellow Island.

Every spring wildflowers

cover the grey rocks.

Every year the sea breeze

ruffles the cold and lovely pearls

hidden in the center of the flowers

as if remembering them

by touch alone.

A calm and lonely, trembling beauty

that frightened me in youth.

Now their loneliness

feels familiar, one small thing

I've learned these years,

how to be alone,

at the edge of aloneness

how to be found by the world.

Innocence is what we allow

to be gifted back to us

once we've given ourselves away.

There is one world only,

the one to which we gave ourselves

utterly, and to which one day

we are blessed to return.


bottom of page