Growth is measured in so many ways.
the tick-tock of a clock.
Counted footsteps, carefully walked
toe to heel
across the sand.
An inch on a map =
five hundred miles on land.
Pencil marks on grandma’s wall--
feet flat, shoulders back
stand up straight.
a bit higher
never scrubbed away,
a smudged reminder of where we’ve been.
Growth is measured in
grades (plus! minus!) shoved in pockets of backpacks.
Hours spent in front rows on church pews.
trophies, ribbons, medals
hung around necks, displayed proudly on our walls--
nails bending, necks heavy with the weight of our own accomplishment.
what about the growth we cannot measure?
The most important growth.
What if there isn’t a
or trophy case of the soul?
What if no one is keeping track?
How do we know
How much dirt did we wash off our hands at the end of the day?
How many hours did we go without shoes--
the earth soft and warm beneath our feet,
How many mornings did we wake with the birds,
dress ourself in morning sun
and sit in the silence of
what seems to be nothing
Have we shared kind words today?
Have we planted
a thought? Have we taught?
Have we questioned,
then learned something new?
Have we slowed down? Have we laughed?
Have we felt
of the simple
Have we looked at the overlooked?
Have we rested,
and then opened our eyes,
felt something new
in our SELF?
An unfamiliar space
for light to shine.
We don’t have the tool to measure
A ruler won’t reach,
a scale isn’t big enough.
not to worry…
we are growing.