The mountain’s soil is now soft
enough foliage has fallen
on the forest floor to make it
a thick springy mat
the delicate sorrel grows
its pink flowers
over the duff layer
where all that breaks down offers
nutrients

Thank all the trees whose leaves
reach outwards
thank all the clouds above
for their seamless passage through
the sky  
and thank all the small ants
that venture over the gravel

you never needed to be a prim
and proper porcelain doll
with a white stand running
down your back

you are everything but a doll

i had settled for being the girl admiring you from inside the store just across the aisle  
but seems like i am standing outside, again behind the glass  

with strings attached to my hands
and life puppeteering, all i can do is close
my eyes where it as dark as night and trust that when life sits me upright & i open my eyes– i will understand surrender
           (I will understand why)

I know we never needed to be a prim and proper porcelain dolls with white stands or strings

I know we came to be human, but why does it feels so fragile even more so than being a doll

From a distance
can you see it
rock stacked over rock
Each rock a prayer
asking the wind to spread it

Simple get up and change your life
the harrowing point of pain & weight

on your body marks where to begin

Don’t die. Listen to new music. funk’s electro baby phonk. Donate your clothes. Get some bright shirts and some daisy socks. Read a book.buy a nice triangular pencil. Get said pencil scribble,write and draw on restaurant napkins. Add  a new city on your new list of must visit before I croak. Turn up the dial to an idiosyncratic volume on commutes. move your arms a little no penalty will be given for dancing. Smile at the stranger next to you.  Be as indifferent as the sun to whether stranger smiles back or not .But don’t die not from old age. At least not that kind of old age.

Come closer. Listen. The heart pumps the same. Don’t die as an antiquity. Buy an old vintage scarf and make yourself new. Hug your friends like you have always been a hugger.

I am again a night owl
arms stretched wide to loosen
my shoulders  as I make my way across
the bustling square with black flip flops flopping
now if only I could traverse as silently as the owl, unnoticed throughout the night