the blowing forces outside
jostle those plant remnants
who have found their way down.
but who could have known
the currents would emancipate me
to the sky?
certainly not a particular lost wanderer, you know,
the one leery of future prospects
not only of how metallic it all will be.
certainly not the child,
who would be buried in the grass clippings or mown ferns
without some internal resolution.
there once was this four letter word that
I found myself afraid of believing
I felt towards myself.
and with the simplest of calculations,
the universe has delivered my replacement,
fully under warranty.
because it said when I was dropped off:
this is how karma works.
the shame of feeling: undeserving
melts with this fall equinox.
the guilt of existence: burdening
flakes into the air like the impending snow.
the insecurity of me: debilitating
slowly rises in life’s oven from unformed dough into victuals.
the hatred of self: rupturing
exploring with the simplest of the emotions to appreciate.
love is my life’s guarantee.