i jot down notes
in the language of the heart
to recite back to myself
when i’ve forgotten how to hear
its steady whisperings.
i leave in the dark
fly through clattering tunnels,
walk through concrete forests.
I repeat poetry behind strip malls
and return home in the dark.
i’m a bat, chirping to hear
where i am, chirping,
to hear who i am.

I wrote this last year, but I’m starting to feel this way again.  its long dark days at the hospital again, solid weeks without sunshine again.  better camaraderie than last year, but still navigating life and death and sickness and pain without time to reflect, time to feel, time to be present.  thank god for friends who restore the soul on the weekend.


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