Light Through The Hole

The hole is out there somewhere.
It never really leaves.
Sometimes it's just a divot.
Sometimes it lives and breathes.

It can lie concealed for hours.
For days or months or years.
But late at night it lurks
And starts ringing in my ears.

It pokes at every weakness.
Jostles every doubt.
Begins with just a whisper.
Then turns into a shout.

It questions, rants and hollers.
Enlarges all my fears.
It burns and sweats and panics.
Can render me to tears.

Its tentacles are sticky.
It weakens brave resolve.
It shakes and chokes and threatens.
In darkness I dissolve.

But it's just the voice of learning.
Unchecked and left alone.
Born of best intentions.
Still rocks me to the bone.

I release myself to presence.
Breathe in and see the day.
And know I am a traveller.
Who may have lost my way.

The hole is always near me.
Stretching out to make me fall.
Yet life is clear and present.
And light-filled after all.

I walk and sit in wonder.
And pray for guidance too.
The hole is just an opening.
That sees me through to you.

C. Wolff
June 7, 2006
Stockholm