Poetry for the Soul: “For One Who Is Exhausted, a Blessing” by John O’Donohue (2008)

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,

Time takes on the strain until it breaks;

Then all the unattended stress falls in

On the mind like an endless, increasing weight.

The light in the mind becomes dim.

Things you could take in your stride before

Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.

Gravity begins falling inside you,

Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.

And you are marooned on unsure ground.

Something within you has closed down;

And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.

The desire that drove you has relinquished.

There is nothing else to do now but rest

And patiently learn to receive the self

You have forsaken in the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken

And sadness take over like listless weather.

The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

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A brief musing from Anny: In the ebb and flow of life, there are moments when the heart races, struggling to keep pace with time's relentless demands until it buckles under the weight of unattended stress. It's as if the world's burdens converge upon the mind, dimming its once bright light and turning simple tasks into arduous endeavors. Weariness seeps into the very core, and the gravity of exhaustion pulls us down, leaving us stranded on unfamiliar shores. A part of us retreats, shutting down in self-preservation, and the path to reignite that inner flame seems elusive. Yet, in this stillness, in the emptiness of time, there's a chance to rediscover the Self we've lost in the relentless pace of life.

This poem beautifully unveils the necessity of honoring our own limits, entering a realm of 'empty time,' and embracing the art of simply being. It whispers to us, urging us to find solace in the small wonders we often overlook, to learn from the unhurried descent of rain and the gentle transition of twilight. It speaks of kinship with stillness, the patience to receive the neglected parts of ourselves, and the grace to navigate the delicate balance between haste and rest. In this gentle return to oneself, we discover a newfound reverence for our hearts and the profound joy that resides within the unhurried cadence of existence.