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I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom
goes on as fruit.


by Dawna Markova, written on the eve of her father's death.

I haven't read her book, but I stumbled on this poem and selfishly ripped it out of a magazine when flying around somewhere last year for work. I found the rumbled page again tonight, almost a year later, as I sorted through the piles of paperwork in my office.

There are stacks of things from the old house and new stacks have formed day by day since arriving here. My office is a disaster and an excuse for not being more productive. Paperwork, expense reports, invoices, receipts, bills, reminders, and health insurance issues (I loathe these most of all) are piled up all around me. I'd take a picture, but I'm too embarrassed.

Anyway, I found this in culling through one of the piles tonight and decided that, one year later, I'm glad I tore it out of the magazine. A year ago it was probably read as a kick in the ass to stop doing things I hated and "risk my significance". Today I read it as validation and inspiration to keep digging through the piles to find the seeds that will bloom and the blossoms that are turning into fruit right before my eyes.


Originally posted on patty.vox.com