My head is disappearing.
Into my fingers.
Into this keyboard.
Like a pitcher of water
being poured into a potted plant
Unaware of what I might rant.
Only aware of the action.
There is only this moment.
My children are running around.
with their heavy feet.
They are excited to be physical.
As I feel broken.
from lifting and pulling.
I try to outlive my body,
so I break it down.
So that it might repair.
So that it might come back stronger.
It is not working.
I seek the serene.
A transcendental moment
I can pass on.
Some words worth sharing.
I have retreated from the political.
Retreated from the news.
I focus on the best to hear and view.
The stunning site of my eight year old and her missing front teeth.
The passing furry of my youngest not getting her Pop Tart.
Her repetition is to break us
As her blood sugar fluctuates.
These moments we see.
My memories are slipping away continously.
My body is in rehabilitation, forever.
Both physically and mentally the past is my best.
But, I still want to share what is left.
So that after I water this keyboard a root
might grow on the other side.
As this data glides through this web of life.
We share together.