Unsure

Transitions make me quite reflective, which is why I think I’m processing leaving our current home in poetry…  While I will certainly leave this place with some fond memories, there are also hard memories that will accompany us as well.  (It doesn’t help that we received a racist and threatening prank call at 2 am the other morning either).  *sigh*   here is an honest thought in that vain…

How do you leave a place,

limping,

feeling as though you

made every effort to live

but aren’t sure if you ever

really got there?

.

Except for the time

you gasped

at the tree in the fog in the field

or hiked

with your daughter through the woods

or cried out

for healing on the lonely streets of an empty town.

.

Perhaps

limping

is simply

another step forward

along the path

of living.

.