I keep pulling you, right side up and upside down and I feel my stomach do

that plunk move.

Right to the bottom floor.

I’m so tired of being messy.

When I listen to that sweet little salve, she says, messy is fun, use the messy,

you do it well and with humor and grace.

You are not alone in the fumbly, bumbly

Pooh bear musings.

Sometimes I listen to her and lend my ear,

shoulder meets chin, I stretch and I yawn

and I laugh at myself, oh me, oh my, what a wild ride I place myself on.

Over and over again because that is my way of learning.

But sometimes, and sometimes, but sometimes,

in the darkness, in the roaming lions of my head,

in the rambles and shambles, I say with great trepidation,

No, no it isn’t enough.

You should know by now.

What is wrong with you and your

silly ideas and your grand illusions and your goddamn hopefulness?

Sometimes I want to sit back down at a desk,

get in trouble for taking walks,

at least I knew I was important because the name on the door told me so.

I was good at something, wasn’t I?

I had things to show for it, like paystubs and retirement earnings and the air

of importance.

Meetings to make, drop offs to scramble for, get in the car,

we are going to be late!

All the time there was a drumbeat thrumming, strumming, humming in the background,

It said, I can’t do this anymore.

It said, I want off this ride.

It said, why am I so sad?

There is no time to be sad and yet, and yet,

something, someone, who is that voice,

is calling me to lay down on the earth and tell her about it.

Tell her I am scared and lost and I want it to be a little different,

maybe a lot of different.

I don’t even know anymore.

How did I get here and will you catch me?

I forget about that place because I’ve been dropped off in the darkness again,

I know a lot more than when I first started this leg of a journey,

my clothes are tattered,

and my knapsack is full,

I have felt great direction in my directionless wonderings.

And yet I still doubt.

I laugh at myself here,

I hear only human and I am glad.

I have not been so great at letting myself be only human.

With my blood and my bones and my questions.

All I got is me and she is a silly, strong fool.

Thank you for reminding me that I almost died there,

a skeleton of bones and emails.

I wonder what we’ll trip on today.