Click This to listen to the poem
Don’t Be
Late!
By Mushroom Montoya
I’m running late,
For a date of our own making,
Creating a turbulence
In my mind,
While continually twisting a knot
In my gut
For what?
I
don’t
know.
Both my hands and all of
my feet are
Desperately trying to catch up with my eyes
Who zoom from one “must do now”
To the “Oh my god, I need to do that first.”
So terribly hectic I go
That I miss out on the natural flow
Of my own existence.
I lunge ahead
Into an imaginary “next”,
Whirling me out of my ability to focus
On the beauty all around me.
As I rush to get the next thing done.
And then I feel exhausted,
Over-worked,
And bewildered
Wondering how I’ve lost control.
And then I collapse
under our guava tree
Who cradles me under her branches
Telling me I needn’t race
To finish the day,
To get things done,
To run from here to there
Because all that rushing
Only brings me to
Where I am
At this very moment.
“Stop,”
She clatters with her leaves,
“Breathe.
Take this minute.
To delight in my dazzling blooms.
“Your breath is life’s gift to you.
Enjoy it,
Feel it,
Taste it.
Now.
Listen to the cool breeze,
Whispering stories of butterflies,
Flittering from orange blossom to rose bloom
As they escape the beaks of hungry birds.
Be one with the flowers,
Enjoying sex
With the bees,
Frolicking through their
petals.
Be grateful for these quiet moments
For they are delicious
When you slow down enough
To savor them.
You can only do that
When you shift into the Now
That is ever present,
Just waiting for you
To notice.”
