Picking Up Roots

when your days run out
there is no prize
for more:

for having seen more,
done more,
accumulated more,

there is no final measuring stick -
no comparison tool -
with which to measure yourself
against others

perhaps, history will remember you...
for a moment,

you won't know it,

so now what will you do 
with today,
will you fill it 
with life

New

in my body
I am mine,
when I step outside
is when I lose my way,
I have my boundaries;

to stretch is to grow,
to break is to crumble,
healing is a matter
of time

I must stretch
to the point of breaking –
beyond, I must shatter –

to be rebuilt,
to find my new

Distance

too many days
the miles between us
are too far;

the phone is there,
we can share our faces
on screens;
it's good,
but it's not enough;

it isn't the same
as that big hug -
being wrapped
in your reassuring arms,
where I know
there is only safety and love,
where for a moment
the world can't touch me -

distance is easy,
a convenient excuse
we adopt 
as a second skin
to paper over
the holes in our lives,

we need to shed it