Poem 93



it’s been a short year

with long months and dragging days.

a year not to this day,

i stopped running,

desperately trying to catch and fall

into step with every other person

as if their speed

was the only right way.


i raised my hand to tell you

to go ahead without me,

that i’ll be fine walking the rest

of the distance

to wherever we,


to wherever i was going.


i don’t wait for you to turn around

because what is to you

is not to me.

i’ll smell the roses as i pass by

and maybe stomp on a few…

a few cracks on the road

along the path.


i’ll trip and stumble

on my own two feet and wandering eyes.

i’ll find bruises

and wounds already healing

before i’ve even felt

their existence

and that’s okay, i say.


this is life,

short and long

and a pain

but i love it.

velajune 2016

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