Through an absence of clarity, an absence in attention I ran into the banister, winding my way down to the street. An unmoving metal beast that gave a firm clang in response. I held my breath and waited for the pain to ease.
Through the day the pain sat in my heart instead of my hip. A bruise was there, sensitive to the touch. I rubbed the wound and it was real. And with each touch the ache spread and in the ache came a questioning of what is Best. And does Best answer my call or am I deaf to it's plea to silence and patience and all those lovely slow things?
What step and to what direction rests comfortably in my gate? A steady path with no brambles to pierce my bruised hip and heart. And through a lapse in steady footing I've crashed and lent my bruise to another and now they're spending time cleaning up the discomfort and winding their insides back up into the coil they call home.
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1 comment:
The mind is a scary place to wander about.
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