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Soft. Soft.
Yesterday, full of meditation.
Full focus on being present.
Refocus. Refocus. Refocus. Because the mind wanders so easily,
treading paths that sound like jealousy, heresy, inadequacy
detours around
a little girl’s pain
a woman’s leaving
music that reverberates in my bones
dredging a stick through embers
igniting memories and regrets
calling me back to my body that sits in silence, suffering
writing thank you notes and apologies in ink and in blood
so much good will that do unless I put these hands to use.
Yesterday, full of silence.
No candle, no ritual.
Reflection, insomnolent
Your pure truth was a light for me, your woman’s authenticity.
I’ve never been clear with anyone and not sure I ever will be,
but I learn from you and I hear and remain sleepless.
All I can be is grateful for voices I trust in a field where I walk
looking for wisdom, peace, and silence
amid chuckholes that break a horse’s leg.