you

since that March of whatever year,
have you learned to make bread,
or have you learned to examine your choices
and knead your world into more truth?

the ordinary days, by necessity, have become a treasure hunt.

did you decide to leave your job, your person, or your post?
have you finally fallen in love with your thighs or your too-muchness?

what is different for you now?

you are on the rise, or you might still be organizing your materials.

i can smell the blood on all of us,
and we are still deficient in something.
maybe it is that even though the sunrise has been better and pinker than any other year,
we are still concerned about how we look and if our weirdness will sell tickets.

there are seasons to rise and ones to organize
and both have essential, gleaming parts.
may we not come out of this without loving something that was once distorted or ugly.

whatever you have abandoned and all you have collected ~
you are now better at discernment
and the art of yourself. .

holy water is a mixture of your sweat, the moon, and plain from the tap.
you have what you need to make it good, but you do have to find your pants and your pencil.

you could just stand by, unannounced
but you won’t.
you have more clarity than you have calculated.