How to Be


How to Be

*a poem on learning the value of being alone and loving quiet places and finding healing*

kasjd;falkjds (2)

Lace up combat boots.
Tug on winter coat.
Press open the front door.
Move toward pond water
naked oak branches
and apple-red forest brush.
Slide one foot over the other
along nature’s ice rink.
Crunch leaf debris
with curious toes.
Hear wind funnel
between bark and skin.
Watch snow crystals drip
from a white canvas sky.
Notice how dull shades mingle
grey to white to apple-red.
Fill parched lung cavities
with white wisps of air.
Sense the chest rise up
and fall down.
Subdue stomach quivers
with heaved oxygen molecules.
Needle jabs in the chest, pinprick
reminders of rejection.
Wetness travel from
eye lid down to cheekbone.
Heart rate increase in rhythm
at the surge of panic
of another person’s absence.
Alone does not unfurl into lonely.
Courage mummers in still places.
Healing is gentle, abiding.
Standing on two noble feet.
Blood pumping through capable veins.
Hands stitched into unitary patterns.
You are alive.
You are okay.
You are whole.


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