Whatever pain you are in
you are not to blame?
none of us are?
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
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
of being fully here
towards safety love joy
Just as you are now
all utterly as you are now
through sheer bloody luck
that we find ourselves alive
with a force
that burbles up and up and up
than our last.
With thanks to the wordpress daily prompt: luck