our fingers itch to touch skin and green and keys
dissatisfaction is our inherited disease
our skin chills to be ok with itself
it longs to crawl back to the place it began
the warmth of hands
the voice
the garden
we shiver in this state
and are calmed by moments of understanding
milliseconds of clarity
when the owl cries
“all is well, all is well,”
when the sun aligns in the sky to fight shadows
and dries the earth’s confused tears
when random patterns of consciousness form a face
and even tree branches bow, knowing
“all that matters will remain, all that matters will remain”
and we stop fighting our gray hairs
and lines in around our eyes
When the right exit is before us
When we know down to our bones
This is where contentment lives
Where the very blades of grass whisper
“this is home, this is home.”
and we can live here
we don’t have to sight see and rush away
frantic to serve our addictions and watches
we can unpack our bags
begin to fill drawers
with secrets of hidden bruises
with thoughts
“if only____, then I’ll be happy”
we can lock them up
forget where we put the key
we can be free
when we open up the window
see the message in the sky
“every thing’s gonna be alright, every thing’s gonna be alright”
