When my mind is idle it will always be
found hiding in the mountains.
When my mind is working diligently
it will always be wandering back home
to find the clean air and gritty soil.
To rest in the quiet isolation of a
teeny , tiny, cabin.
[OFF THE GRID]
As my mind snaps back to the reality
of a messy desk in a teeny, tiny
cubicle I feel a wave of nausea.
The exit to my cubicle has
been replaced by
a cold, course, brick wall.
I examine each brick.
Not at all sure where I fit in.
Feminism. ISIS. Ignorance. Hatred. Black lives matter. Education. Gun control.
Same-sex marriage. Immigration. Health care. Death. Dying. Oppression.
I breathe in sticky-sweet anxiety.
I breathe out smooth, bitter rage.
and then I break
I am stopped in the middle of a busy street
looking for answers to a question that I cannot find.
Oh, but momma I’m trying.