June Arrives with a Basin of Light

June enters without asking permission,
as any well-raised miracle should.
She does not knock.
She arrives with water in one hand,
courage in the other,
and that look women give
When the room has underestimated them
for the final time.

I met her at the threshold
with my sleeves rolled up,
not frantic,
not fragile,
not begging the universe
to explain itself before breakfast.

Some debris must be washed away
without ceremony.
Old fear.
Old noise.
Old names that forgot how to bless me.
Old rooms where my spirit had to shrink
just to be considered polite.

No, thank you.

I have learned the sacred art
of rinsing what does not belong to me.
I have learned that peace
is not always soft.
Sometimes peace carries a bucket,
opens the windows,
throws out the wilted flowers,
and says,
“Baby, we are not preserving dust
for sentimental reasons.”

So I let the water move.
Let it gather the residue,
the ache,
the almosts,
the unnecessary explanations,
the small humiliations
that tried to dress themselves as lessons.

Let them go.

June reminds me
that everything has a reason
and a season,
And some seasons are only holy
because they ended.

That, too, is grace.

I do not need to chase the meaning
before the meaning has had time
to ripen.
Some answers arrive barefoot.
Some arrive late.
Some arrive dressed so strangely
you almost mistake them for lost.

But I know better now.

I have survived enough endings
to recognize a beginning
when it is clearing its throat.

So I rest.
Not because I have given up,
but because my knowing
has finally become stronger
than my need to interfere.

Let June do what June came to do.
Let the rain polish the path.
Let the sun return my name
to my own mouth.
Let the old debris dissolve
without my forwarding address.

I am entering this month
with candlelit nerve,
clean hands,
a rinsed heart,
and a spirit too expensive
to be handled casually.

What is meant for me
will know the road.

What has expired
May kindly gather its things.

And what is coming
will find me rested,
washed,
laughing softly,
and wearing the kind of peace
That makes confusion nervous—

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