There’s a famous painting
called The blue hole
that a man made a long time ago
when he sat in a shaded spot
at the end of a rushing river.
The landscape has changed a lot
since then but the quiet grandiosity
is still there.
Ive been struggling with
leaving my house.
It started about a year ago when
my brain decided we are only safe
inside.
I can go to work and the grocery store
but going any farther
feels dangerous and uncertain.
Almost like I’m not allowed
to leave.
Maybe I’m also
changing like a riverbed.
Shrinking, expanding,
but still going.
So it must clear up ahead,
up there it could be smooth
sailing.