Feeling clunky

Some days I make more mistakes

Than on others

Fumbling and bumbling my way through tasks


And other forms of traffic.


Clunky words

Tangled feelings 

Bitter, the self-recriminations 

Waking me sometimes 

And being all scratchy inside my head

Itchy and hot underneath the skin

I wonder if I can make it

And perhaps I’ve lost it?

And when will someone blow the whistle 

Revealing me for the imposter I feel myself to be?

Underneath the titles

The roles

The public impressions, so carefully crafted.

And just then.

In that place of exquisite vulnerability

A child’s voice interrupts my reverie 

Asking me to tie a shoe

To tell a story

A stranger unexpectedly asking for help

A friend wonders 

If I will listen to her sadness.

Such interventions, the gift of angels 

Enabling me

To return to myself 

Coming back into my body

And a quiet mind

Knowing somehow that I am enough

And that clunky feelings

Are a secret invitation

A pathway

To humility

To humour

And to grace.

One thought on “Feeling clunky

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