I hang suspended
. Stretching away from my design
. Wrapped tight within myself—my natural tendency
. Clear shimmering, promising help
. But void.
Until
. My neighbor slips down
. Bumping my tight skin, breaking the meniscus,
. Binding with me, pulling, stretching
And we dance to the ground.
Splash, jumping with the others
Filter through the dirt
Nourishing, becoming.
_________________________
This poem is in response to the Five Minute Friday prompt: Neighbor. The rules are: write for 5 minutes and no editing (although I can’t stop myself a little. I am an editor after all). And yes, I know it isn’t Friday anymore. I was up enjoying Lake Michigan and my family and purposefully left my laptop at home. But I did take pics. If you’d like to see some, head over to my Instagram account.
Like the little water droplet in the poem, I so often fight joining with other folks. But when I do allow myself, I find a whole new purpose.
So this fall I’m back to leading a neighborhood study and hanging with my writer’s group. But I’m also presenting at two writer’s conferences and volunteering downtown at a fabulous outreach that uses art to reach the homeless population. I’m nervous and excited as I dance into this new season. Hoping to be nourishment to my fellow neighbors.
How about you? What are you tackling this season?