Yet

Life must be in balance with the dream. 

My eyes and hands hurt, but it's for you. My mind and body tires, but it's for you.

My arms hurt from reaching, my feet hurt from standing, my knees from rising, my chin from tilting upward, my head from thinking through it all, my knuckles from fighting, my cheeks from my triumphant fake smile. My voice from that warrior-shout, my throat whispering prayers, my tongue from speaking truth. 

My heart from bleeding, my soul from bearing, my womb because it's barren.

My fist from clenching hope and my fingers peel back, because hope is a dove, its flight ascends into the blue sky and white cloud and yellow sun and it goes from me and I cannot control it. 

Breathless, breathless, breathless, running, feet pounding on the sidewalk, breathless. 

I can hear it, the piano keys, I can smell it, the wet earth, I can taste it, sweet air, I just can't quite...

Touch it, I haven't touched it yet.

it's okay,

jj