Touchstone, Taproot

from Out With Lanterns, a daily poetry practice

Maybe today was hard because
I didn’t shower. Or maybe
I didn’t structure it well enough
or I didn’t go running
or I let a rogue thought run wild
or I thought too much about the future
or I had a good idea then forgot it. 
Maybe today was hard because
the dog barked so much at our friend
and I never want to be a bother.
Or maybe it’s the touchstone moving 
like it always does, no matter how heavy,
because time is a goddamned thief.
We were all once babies. 
Isn’t that hard to remember?
I didn’t cry after the funeral, but I did cry
after I told my husband I was struggling.
The taproot keeps a plant alive, 
but what happens when it’s pulled?  
What if this is just a time to ask questions?
What if I let myself be the bother? 

Photo by おにぎり on Unsplash