Compass

10 11 2012

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.
My eyes.
My ears.
My senses.

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.

I/need/to/move/to/live.

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