Stand. Still.

Photo by Valentina Pescape' on Unsplash

I don’t like resolutions. I think the very idea of them defies the fact that we are constantly in growth, change, development — at least I hope we are. Still — I do like goals, and the general pause in activity that comes around the first of the year is a pretty good time to sit down and reflect on goals.The challenge comes in the days following January 1, where the world starts up again and distractions abound.

I woke up this morning and watched my hands dissolve.

Just yesterday, they pulsed with life and

the whorls of my fingerprints imprinted, heavy,

on everything I touched.

I had goals, ideas, a plan for the next year.

Somewhere in a fitful night my hands touched doubt.

Each cell stepped apart to ponder — “Can I do this work?” —

and they dissolved.

I breathe into a disappearing body,

make drumbeats of my pulse and call them back.

I call back the cells of my body into their substance.

I call back my hands from the corners where they cower,

afraid of their own strength.

I call back myself into heavy solidity —

bones, muscles, skin, blood, sweat, tears —

I call myself to rise and stand. Still.