Turn Your Palm
I invited you in to the mystery with an open hand.
I invited you in to the lap of love.
I walked you down a golden path
and touched your eyelids when you slept.
Then I turned away
and showed you a darker moon.
You live in the land of bothness–
without lost you can’t know found.
You stumbled like a lost, numb one.
You passed on pain,
covered another’s mouth,
raised an elbow against their cheek,
said “No, not that. Not you.”
It begins like that. It doesn’t begin
with an atom bomb or a vicious fight.
It begins with a small silver needle
that sews its way through and
says, I block this.
I do not want to hear that word.
I do not want to see that face.
Curve around it. Curve around everything.
Turn your palm over and become a listening bowl.
Yes: this will turn your convictions to dust
and feel like a slicing death.
What is dying is your prison.
Whatever you hear, let your heart
be a golden sieve to it.
– Tara Mohr
photo credit: Christian Fregnan
Join the discussion 9 Comments
Beautiful poem, Tara. I love the small silver needle!
Love it! I will have my 13 yo daughter read it also….
This is what it is like. Prisons dying, silver needles curving and golden sieves for our hearts.
A treasure!!! I love the listening bowl and without lost you can not find found. I can hear your voice as I read this! You have a gift, you are a gift!
You are a beautiful poet. I love this:
“Curve around it. Curve around everything.
Turn your palm over and become a listening bowl.” Such an exciting and generous invitation!
Dear Tara, I have read this poem over and over, feeling it for myself and for people I know. I may have to memorize it. Why is it so hard for us to turn our convictions to dust, to give up our prisons?
thank you for this.
Genius thought, my pleasure to meetyou, loveyou.