Start Again
I said goodbye to my parting parents.
On they went after five days reconnected.
It’s old and familiar belonging.
It’s slowed time that heals.
And then the speed of postponed things returns.
Good things, yet this transition unsteadies.
But then I start again.
That phone call was jarring.
This time my dear son in deep struggle.
It’s old and familiar pain.
I hope it can transform some day.
This isn’t a call that vanishes quickly.
It, and the worry in me, bakes.
But then I start again.
That other jarring text.
Of blame and hurtful assertions.
It’s old and familiar narrowness.
It’s words that drip with exploiting judgement.
It’s ridiculously unfair.
Punishing in tone.
But then I start again.
Start again.
In new day,
or in new hour, refreshed.
With kindness.
With clarity.
It’s what I know.
To start again.
