Waiting for the Ground to Remember
I look to the sky for that small, distant sight,
already running from me into the light.
The ground stays closed, nothing giving an inch,
winter holding its line without reason to flinch.
My body still carries the shape of that day,
the rhythm, the pause, the clean send away.
So I wait where I am, not restless, not loud,
trusting the ground will remember me now.
Steel waits for grass it can't yet find,
The swing stays soft inside my mind.
I'd walk a long way for one clean release,
to send something forward and let it find peace.
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