my sense of self is
so far from
these Brooklyn kitchens with their smell
of grease and fighting
low rumble in the air
what are we being saved from?

Prospect Park outside my school
the pines
I went and sat under among the needles
my first stillness
walk and walk to hear the hum
of my own thoughts

now I don't need to walk
the stillness within and without
but I do
to take up the invitation to beauty
to be in the world
and to not be caught staying still
vulnerable to being taken over by time

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