The Invitation; By Oriah Mountain Dreamer (A native American Indian)

(I like this poem and found it while looking for something totally different, but I thought I would share it as this week the fridge magnets are silent.)

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting in your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being
alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or become shrivelled
and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to
the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be
careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you’re telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not
pretty every day and if you can source your life from
God’s presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver
of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or
how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

3 thoughts on “The Invitation; By Oriah Mountain Dreamer (A native American Indian)

  1. Pingback: When words fail « Pink Hair Girl

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