V. H. King's Ink

Grandma Baby’s Black Gold Lenormand Too || Mirror; Broom; Baby; Ring

Another sunny day and I find myself
hoping for a morsel to grow on while
I nurse the toddler of my anxiety:
fretting over whether I’m doing a good job
at letting myself rest, of giving myself
the chance to take my time. I dream of

wandering into summer with paint
on my hands and hope in my heart, thick
grass tickling my toes and my heels
planted in the earth of my displaced ancestry.
I want to listen to the child yearning
for the encouragement to play, like a nudge
toward that tall scary slide my gut
tells me will be an utter delight.

Help me find my permission to cherish
every long-shadowed evening no matter
the suffering tempting its way into my mind.
Keep my heart soft when my words are lost;
teach me to hold myself with care, not just
when everything changes, but even when life
feels frighteningly endless in its unknowns.