Stumbling Around

What is this time that I’m in right now?

The seconds, minutes, waves that pass through the air.

I can only look closely at flowers, touch trees, follow the notes of birds.

I can only think of you as in the past now.

Even though the loss roams heavily throughout my chest cavity.

Sitting on the back porch. That’s all. Just trying to be. Wind chimes occasionally drifting into my ears.

I’m back to work. But am I? The doing of things. It’s in the doing. And the being.

Dread is still here. Living dormant for a few moments then back to life, roaring.

Veering away from crowds, friends, happenings.

Energy has been stagnant and low in my gut.

Comparing mind nags at me. So many are suffering.

What am I so special?

Though I can’t break out yet from this hard shell of caring ‘til death and what still spills into tomorrow.

Ease will come. I know it. I have proof from a cool breeze and a blooming milkweed.

On the porch as the mourning doves sing long and low.

Just a little more time. I’ll be there. I know I will.

I’ve been taught well.

Love you, Mom.