Each day demands more of being in the moment.
Leaning further forward with hearts not only cracked, but bleeding.
We are so far into it now
that I’m losing sight of where this path began.
It just is.
Each day reinforces protections and distance.
I’m in a bubble both respecting and guarding others’ bubbles.
People delight at transition to virtual
to which I add my marvel for creative resilience.
But I miss people.
Each day hope jitterbugs with fear,
clarity of essence with confusion of deeply creviced loss,
sadness of what once was two-steps with joy of what is birthing,
surrender stumbles to anger and back again to softness.
It too, this alive yet aching heart, just is.