What will happen on a day when you want to be nothing?
Not a frustrated employer with repetitive instructions.
Not the earnest employee trying to save the world from nuclear catastrophe by shooting off that one last email.
Be gone the anxious wife constantly casting the web of a healthy diet onto a reluctant soul.
Be gone the constant mother with that constant spoon full of food, running that daily marathon.
Be gone always the little daughter, terrified of what might take them away.
I don’t want to be a friend , foe or relative today.
I don’t want to make phone calls, I don’t want to be devout and pray.
I’ve shed my skin, and with it all my responsibilities for the day.
I want my world to be restitched with a blanket, stormy rain, a piping hot mug of coffee and an old tattered book.
I’ll cover myself from head to toe, and imagine myself perched by a murmuring brook.
I was whole, but I know little pieces of me that my ‘everyday’ took.
I am nothing today but I’ve found my old self, even if for a moment, nuzzled in a cozy nook.