Okay, so obviously, I am not an old lady.
Rather, it's that I can lack discipline.
Here's the thing about words - they're just words.
Any meaning we contribute to them is our own.
Perhaps, my writing and speaking can convey feelings, images and ideas
but these things are transitory and fleeting.
This is why I take every moment with a grain of salt, tossing it over my right shoulder
when it's past. Don't hold on to it - let it go. Even all of the little side swipes and big collisions.
Let them go. Even without any forth coming apologies, or even sometimes, acknowledgment
of mistakes made. Let it go.
(big. breath. out.)
You brought me to my knees.
Like the grey-blue southwest speckled rattlesnake and its venomous bite.
You brought me to me knees.
Teaching me how beeautiful surrender is and can bee.
You brought me to my knees.
So, now, I breathe, feeling the resistance in my body and
my desire to flee.
You brought me to my knees.
And I am okay with it.
I can live with this dance, as your brilliance pours forth on stages across the nation
while your chaos goes unchecked from city to state.
You brought me to my knees.
And I can live with it.
