Altering

my arm guards the tender place

there is pain

my body lists a little to the side

bending and curving around what hurts

habits forming with thought and without thought

moving crookedly now

a soreness that will ease

perhaps

with time and attention

these are the obvious and expected

reactions to physical wounds

where does my mind bend around a tender spot

is it camouflaged deftly

preventing awareness from tending those

heart wounds

like a garden to pluck the weeds

like a garden to turn the soil

like a garden to compost last year’s crop

like a garden to grow healthy vegetables

like a garden to grow medicinal herbs

like a garden to grow beautiful flowers

the potential is there

but I must walk through the garden gate

maybe rusted shut

hinges needing to be replaced

so it does not scrape the ground

I gather the tools

I let down my guard

the only time to begin is now

and always

closed green wooden gate
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