I want to be gracious
I really do
with the beauty of grace I long to be imbued
my limbs and my tongue
my whole mouth and face
may the slant of my brow draw grace

may my hips, knees and ankles
bend like a breeze
when you point your gaze upon me, may I ally with gorgeous ease
with gentle light throughout

may my aura say:
this one who stands before you is, readily, about kindness, patience and care
within every glance, behind every stare

I want to be gracious
I want my reach for pure grace to never lag
I want to fly exquisite benevolence like a fine fettled flag

I want graciousness to fit me
to a T
I want graciousness to be me

I want to walk with it
curl up in it
swim by it
and see graciousness, most assuredly, equipping me—
to be gracious

when the noise of interminable ignorance rises like a fevered tide
when the grasp for psychic survival clutches me inside
when I’m swallowed in the muck of debilitating pride
when my security brain takes me on the Sisyphus ride
may graciousness ever so swiftly arrive
may graciousness unashamedly emerge
one way or another—
bring me out from under my cover

may it foster me to fall in love with chance—
the mystery moments I customarily swipe aside
may graciousness lead me far and wide

may it surface to unequivocally save me—
from snap judgements and meager mental space
may graciousness bathe me in its taste
and cultivate my pallet to pick its fruit
to immerse myself in its ever-flowing juice
disarmed


© 2017 Pamela Sackett
Jeff Rogers: top photo
Giacinta Mazzoccone Vosika: bottom photo