Make friends with yourself
the monk said
and I felt my skin snap
against my bones
in that way
when clarity punctures
the crust of old habits
and the world goes still
for a precious borrowed blink
a familiar clump of words
but somehow I knew
what she meant
see the good
forgive the bad
and don’t put yourself
up on a pedestal
I sat for a long time afterwards
on a bench in the wind
wondering at the genius
of such ordinary love.