A (new) Choice
I
Am the stray hair
Caught in my eyelash there
During silent sitting
I
Am the hot knot
Churning hungry in my gut
While I am sitting still
I
Am the bones
Inside my toes
Grinding
Into the ground
When I chose not to move
I
Am the decision
I will have to make
When I get up
And go through my day
I
For now
Am willing
To be
The tug and sting in my eye
The rot and rumble in my gut
The gristly grating in my bones
The desire to choose in my chest
I
Will sit with
Me
-a.r.
The Broken Column, Frida Kahlo
A reworking of a recent poem, because it made more sense this way…today.
sometimesihatemycat 
Wonderfully expressed
Thank you, as always.
all glory to the mundane self … only
Yes, and that’s all there is of us…mundane selves…and isn’t that wonderful. I wish more people could admit, accept, and honor that.
Viscerally introspective acceptance. Brilliant work.
Thank you so much, those are wonderful compliments…not sure I deserve them but they are great to hear nonetheless.