Shame and Authenticity: two poems from the Daring Way Conference

What if what is left undone
is really the pocket of my soul,
a flap of frayed cloth tucked
underneath my armored ribs,
filled with bits of knotted string
     that no one dares untangle,
lined with the fuzz of unfinished
     lists now worn to pulp by anxious fingers,
the sly hole in the right-hand corner
     dropping coins and love
     into the weeds?
What if what is left undone
is me
     unraveled
     useless
          What a shame ....


What if the pocket of my soul
were supple silver like the shifting
sand in a stream, deepening
and narrowing with the current,
cupping sunlight and moonlight
in its belly?
What if the pocket of my soul
could open, reflecting light
like the satin folds under
my chasuble in the movement
of prayer?
What if the pocket were deep enough
to hold all of the love and glory
spilled into it, until
they overflowed like words
into the world?