poetry

March 13 2020

Duality, 

Liminal Spaces.

Nothing is final.

No feeling is final.

It is not too far away

Time is not against me

My body works to protect me 

I get to belly laugh

and zone out 

and cry 

and feel angry 

I get to move in 

and go back

and go past again

I get to retrace

and remind

perplexed,

   but not in despair 

I persist -- 

despite the nagging

  aching 

  gut-turning humanity inside me

I am a jar of clay

“I am scattered in its whirl”

I am steady 

I am shaky 

I am both and nothing alone 

more with You 

guiding me 

within, without     Both.