Between Riot and Acceptance
I live in the shadow
between riot and
acceptance
where anything
is no longer possible.
Where I will end up
depends upon the unlikely:
pure compassion
a million birds flying
fireflies blinking in unison
just enough love.
Hope still bubbles up
through the mossy earth
like a seasonal spring,
no longer shooting high
with the force of a geyser
like it once did.
The spring’s presence is both
reassurance and distraction
taunting me
with the lengthening of shadows
the shortening of breath
waning flexibility.
Today, if I can manage to sit
in lotus, my hands cupped
in prayer,
perhaps I will feel my heart
how it still beats
with purpose.
jessica johnson
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