The return

To return
To a place
I felt not in but out of,
From a sense of obligation
And commitment.
Sets of rules and strategies
I had no part in setting,
Goalposts I have no interest in aiming for…

My heart is heavy
I can feel its weight sinking down,
Lead poisoned,
into my stomach.

Life is short
And good health a privilege,
A bonus
Not to be taken for granted
Squandered or misused.

Talent is a perishable gift
With a best before date.
Needing nurture and nourishment
Not neglect.

Duty will make me return
To post.
To the lift of mind and spirit
At the rhythm of word and sound,
Tune and tone,
Will steer me away.

If I listen to the rise and fall
Of my breath
On an air or a reel,
My pulse will match the pace
Which I could follow….
If I listen…

‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?

Marianne Williamson



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