Complete

It seems everyone longs for another time,
Vacancy consuming us in our whole.
The melody once we yearned for is no longer recognizable, and the world
Becomes a scary place.
Every day asks something of us, more and more until we don’t even realize we aren’t living for ourselves
Until we can’t fulfill the draining obligations forced upon us.
What day will I break? When will the cracks in my words crumble and erode so that they notice and ask
What’s wrong?
And what can I say to someone who notices that I have failed to catch myself?


But I will always have the earth to fall upon.
The stubborn rubber of the black snake hose maneuvering its way across the lawn.
I will plant you in the ground and lean with all my strength
On the spigot, hardening in the sun.

I will not let the commotion of life get ahead of me. I water your leaves even though I have been taught time and time again to water
At the root.
In this rare moment to heal, and to be,
I am whole once more.

I will make you a part of me.