I’ve been exploring what inner authority feels like now, at seventy-three — learning to let the many parts of me listen to one another instead of striving to lead.

It’s the same balance I’m seeking in my art and writing, especially in my poem Tether of Knowing—how do we honor the edges and still find grace in the middle?

Hidden wholeness steels itself against my entreating solace.

With a ragged heart, I struggle through unseen barbs, learning to harmonize the edges.

In fallow land—beneath its quiet softness—the gift of grace prevails.

cp.