i've been noticing a profound difference in myself over the past few years. aging does happen slowly, imperceptibly, but it always happens suddenly, the shift into a new awareness of life and myself. an awareness that includes looking back at what i was.

i just got back from spain, visiting a friend there. i keep telling people, believing myself to be oh so clever, that traveling hasn't quite set me free from answer-seeking just yet; nothing achingly grandiose and hidden from me has been revealed

the wet morning after a full moon
    as she grows slimmer
    on the other side of the waters

the sun shines brightly
    peeking through so many trees
    seeking me out
finding the skin of my eyelids
    and shoulder blades

the phenomenon of a warm unanticipated
    touch from the sky

.

and now searching becomes the focal point

journeying, always
    are we

is there a moment of rest
    ,truly?

if forward is all there is

where is now?

.

i like to battle the elements
    with tiny movements
whenever i can

pushing up against gravity,
    resisting its pull

talking back to pain

reflecting on death,
     even as i breathe
    ;

the little things which prove our power,
    though we are small
   
aren't these our strange miracles?

picking up that which has fallen,
    setting it back to rights

the beauty of a car swerving around you so it doesn't hit you as you walk home~ that's gotta mean something, right? your life meant enough to something else in the world that they made a conscious effort to make sure you stayed alive.