I don't feel
present
in the moment.
Looking from the outside in
and yet
trapped
inside my body.
Handwriting,
familiar;
voice,
silent;
thoughts,
ignored.
A few steps behind;
a few steps,

and I'm right back where I started.

In this past year I have become dormant,
confidence
invested somewhere safe
and then left behind,
no trail,
no evidence.
Only me.
Now, among these tall trees,
emerging buds
and flowers,
faces tipped toward the sun,
I lie down.
Eyes closed,
I surrender
to who I used to be;
almost willingly,
with an ease that scares me.

And I'm right back where I started.