Whatever pain you are in

what if

you are not to blame?

What if

none of us are?

What if

just like the womb that grew us

it is sheer bloody luck

to have been born

with these genes

in that home

at the hands of whatever care

you could latch onto and suck

with all your fullfisted fullthroated might.

Isn’t it a dozen doses 

of sheer bloody luck

to have traversed and inherited

every circumstance

that’s carved the shape and sensation

of your being in this moment?

Isn’t it sheer bloody luck

that this gene flickered on

somewhere beyond your direction and gaze

brewing survival as well as sorrow

while another lays sleeping

and another helps you thrive?

It is not sheer bloody luck

you’re awake enough

to know the power and possibility

and powerlessness and presence

of sheer bloody luck?

So, opening even a little

to the craft of chance

what is it you feel in this moment?

What cacophony of inner and outer sensation?

Sun on leather, warming your toe. Curled or loose?

Belly – roiling with a meal? Aching for another?

Wrists – pressing or limp? Did you choose their colour or hair or bones?

Knowing that you have been made by the rattle of unrelated dice

and knowing too 

that our bones crave full choice and full power over our pain

what are you wondering now?

What space has opened? Gaze widened? Earshot expanded?

Whittle a warm oaky bowl for safety.

Let it catch, cradle and hum

the possibility

of being fully here


and moving


towards safety love joy

and belonging.

Just as you are now

all utterly as you are now

still growing

ever growing

through sheer bloody luck

that we find ourselves alive

with a force 

that burbles up and up and up

calling us


and now

and now

to make

this moment




than our last.


Naomi Byrnes  

With thanks to the wordpress daily prompt: luck