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.