Some days I take the long way home
for time to think
and to not think
I tire of going, of never looking up
then combat my go
with meander and wait
Despite my inefficient path and
its ill-timed traffic lights
I have never not made it home
Tag Archives: Personal Growth
Spilled Coffee
Last week I made coffee
but forgot to put the pot
under the machine, and
walked away as it brewed
across my stove burners
I’ll never be a good woman
if measuring myself the way
he did, in a world where I’d
not known my kitchen and
my hemline was too short
Not often I face the damage
of the messages in which I
wade, nor pull them from
my own thoughts; I clean the
spill as if solving a problem
(November 16, 2019)
What I Read
A woman went to the North
to live between the mountains
away from the world, and it
was there that she wrote about
the mainstream news stories
you and I read on a regular
basis. Her premise discussed
how inconsequential it is for
trains to crash and awards to
be given and mild rain to
pass through and new hires
to be announced (some of these
were made up for effect) when
you live in the wilderness. I
suppose out there a person’s
perception changes and isn’t
so centered on being better
than they were the day prior.
Anyway, I have not viewed
news in the same light since
reading her words, and am
adding a few of my own here
so that you might make your
own decision on what I read.
Weeks or Months
How long will it be?
We have been watching the moon
which waxes and wanes and
renews itself and brings,
usually, decent fortune
We have boarded the plane
taken seats by the window
settled in for a movie
preparation is done
I read the journal back to front,
an order that makes sense
to a brain most intent
on knowing endings
How long now?
Until life has changed enough that
the current era is only seen by
standing at the window,
looking through a glass
Meditation of Sorts
On the days the words don’t come
let’s use sounds as I’ve done here
or pair silence with stillness and
within this sacred space let only
one voice be unearthed: intuition.
How is it that what we cannot put
our finger against is always most
powerful, and asks us to consider
the times we did not seem to notice
the passing day but instead pushed
too hard in many uphill directions?
