It fills you not,
the thing you thought you knew.
It doesn’t quench the thirst you have,
this well from which you drew.
And though you take a thousand steps,
you seem never to arrive,
at a place of peace within yourself,
and why you are alive.
It is not to race another soul,
to challenge and compare.
It is not to find a swifter sword,
of clever cruelties to dare to share.
It isn’t to entertain your jealousies,
the frailties to which you cling,
but is instead to find your way with faith,
that your heart might learn to sing.
To learn to love the only living soul,
who can give you what you need,
to forgive yourself for everything,
each mistake, misstep, unkind word, or deed.
The love you seek is not “out there,”
the friend you need is you.
It is the only way to slake your thirst, to know any other love,
To know this first, a love of self,
a love that must be true.
-Teri Skultety, 12/2019
This one will go into the book of poems after “Magdalene Aubergine,” whenever I get to that.
Featured photo, “Goodbye Yellow Leaves Road,” taken in the Autumn of 2019