I search Zillow for a house or apartment.
Each day, I buzz through the ads.
I must move out of my new home.
But in my morning practice
I melt into the ocean
float on gentle waves.
Back on land my mind becomes certain again.
After living alone for so many years,
I can’t live with another.
I need more space
Instead I feel trapped in a shoebox.
And so, as I walk through each day,
attempt centeredness with every encounter,
Zillow still calls to me.
Through brief moments of calm,
I sit awkwardly in this house
while moth-eaten memories close in.
Still tender as open wounds
they light up before me
each melting in a pool of tears.
Then one day, understanding dawns:
the expansiveness I seek
resides in me.
I spread my possessions about this house,
take up space beyond my little room
an Acoma bowl here, a watercolor there.
I awaken to a golden sunrise
content to open the curtains
and be just where I am.
The meadow spreads golden before me,
and beyond, tower blue mountains,
this whole dream a gift from You.
As Zillow fades into the mist,
I ready myself for a new cycle.
My pulse quickens in anticipation of
yet more Love.