My life revolves around laundry soap,
meals that burn, dogs that bark, floors begging to be swept
Where are the things that matter?
I imagine lovers touching gently in the night;
talk with friends; drumming the moon; candles, and glowing satori.
Life revolves, around toilet paper,
dishes to be washed, kids that need tending.
What makes me think that death
would make this any more real?
Already a subscriber? Log in
You have read 5 articles this month.
For only $3 per month or $28 per year, you can read as much as you want!
A digital subscription includes unlimited access to current articles–and some exclusive digital content–released throughout each week, over thirty years of articles in our Dharma archive, as well as PDFs of all back issues.
My life revolves around laundry soap,
meals that burn, dogs that bark, floors begging to be swept
Where are the things that matter?
I imagine lovers touching gently in the night;
talk with friends; drumming the moon; candles, and glowing satori.
Life revolves, around toilet paper,
dishes to be washed, kids that need tending.
What makes me think that death
would make this any more real?
I breathe deeply. hold a dish to be washed,
javish it with suds, breathe and wash,
breathe and wash—
each dish an offering.
With each breath, let life begin.
Tom Elliott
Grass Range, Montana
