I’ve stopped writing poetry
I barely find myself journaling
not with any credit or worth
more drivel
I am feeling sorry for myself I suppose
or this is what I tell myself
this pov comes from my generational upbringing
if we feel anything then we’re not doing something
right
this generation
the one my children
and some of their children
belong to feels in ways that cut to the bone
a huge pendulum swing
I try to walk the tight rope between
the not doing enough and the feeling
sorry
for
myself
I care only for the dirt on my compound
the walls and boards here that hold things together
the green shoots that need tending or pulling
people passing by no longer fascinate
I do not want a long arm reached across the great pond
no embracing those being who need to live
and let live and go do their own thing
humans
take care of the earth
be kind
manage what you have
live with and in
this
enough