I am finding pockets of time,

Iittle spaces that are neatly defined to

be, to be in ease, in rhythm with the

soul and wall away the limits of

the day that bind you down in

discontent and with thoughts about

what might have been if only this or that.


These pockets are set aside for anything

other than demands or doing for others

what they don’t want to do themselves.


Let me go away, I say, to this time, this space,

this eternity that seems not like living at all

but a holy interval and the holding of the day

where I can be just myself and no other.