note to self

not consequence
but weight—the
pull that tethers
you to ground—

don’t bemoan the
physical toll—bent
back and sagging face—
even though earth
drags you to her
gravity is both
dogged and required

notice the gifts
your feet stay planted on
the ground, the sun—your
sustenance—holds earth
at a life-giving distance
and rivers run downhill
so much is provided—you
are beholden to gravity

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

I welcome comments and discussion!

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