Poetry
 
 
 

Mountain Dreamer’s Poem

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you  ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk  looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to  know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear  of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your  own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if  you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want  to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can  bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not beautiful everyday, and if you  can source your life on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of  the full moon.

It doesn’t interest me where you live or how much money you have. I want  to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want  to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not  shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I  want to know what sustains you from inside when all else falls away. I  want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Oriah, Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder