“Grant me the serenity.”

Can I ask for that?

My peace is buried under experience and questions.

It is a thing that disappears when I look directly,

and reveals itself when I turn away.

Like a hand gentle on my shoulder,

from somewhere a whisper

“to grant yourself serenity – yes.”

The violence, the misunderstanding,

I cannot change.

Or the mistakes I made

three days ago when I said those things.

The DNA that makes me seem different to you.

And how hard the world shakes

something so fragile it breaks.

There is no stopping the declaration of my body,

growing up, growing old.

These things shriek at me until

I “accept the things I cannot change”

and I become the rock in the stream,

steadfast while the rapids flow by.

Reaching deep, can I conjure

the courage to change my ways?

Take hold with both hands

my hunger, relentless, demonic,

And bring it up close to my face.

To stop my own noise and really hear

what you are saying to me.

How much bravery do I need

to voice dissent, start a new politic?

To show myself with all my odd shapes and colors.

With slow steps I descend into the cave

to find a diamond made from unbearable pressure.

It is the “courage to change the things I can.”

When I have done a little thing,

that small effort, even though it is

only a half turn of the screw,

it is some movement to see.

A small blossom of knowing buds.

I learn the difference between

how much to water the delicate plant

and when to let the sun help it grow.

It is then, I feel I have taken a breath of

“wisdom to know the difference.”