As my days fill fuller with places to get to and leave from,
I feel tightening in my chest,
Mind calculating next moves, on time, expectations.
Body fades into background.
Is this how I’ll have to live as I deepen into commitment, life work,
The path of my young heart becoming?
How do I feed on the oxygen of the tall pine and cedar that once brought levity to my lungs?
They are far now, miles away replaced by big box stores that cover the open sky.
Tell me, where are the roots in cemented places?
Where land is disguised, forgotten, as it suffocates beneath black and grey tarred weight.
Letting the next and next and next lean my body forward into an uncertain future not yet lived,
Is as certain as suicide.
A body and mind that live, detached.
A life of dissonance that craves union.
So easy to forget that the body is needed for the head to rest home.
Connection, the life raft, is to return to the senses,
Come back to just this.
This, just this.
Photo by stoplovingme
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