My life is on the line
Every time I cross the street.
But walking out the door,
Getting on an airplane, or a bus, or a taxi
Affords me the same peril.
It’s all about inches
And gasps of breath.
That nagging feeling of being at risk
When crossing the street is cerebral.
I use my head.
Yet it only takes a fraction of a second,
An iota of distraction
Or a misstep–to get my full attention;
Give my heart a jolt;
Set my spirit on fire;
Bring me to life.
The more I have become attuned to the world,
The more self-preserving I get,
The more balanced life becomes.
Finding my center becomes a little bit difficult.
I need a nice ass-kick
Or a slap
To get back on track.