Sometimes
I am tired like the interstate is tired
All the same signs and truck stops and fat fast food in a forever bad dream
And the excitement of being on an adventure gives way to the tedium of meaningless mile markers
And everything takes longer than I want
But goes by faster than I want
Somewhere to be but not there
And not here
And not soon
Hot in the window in the Sun
And no way to escape
but turning, which I cannot do
And the anemic air conditioner loses
To reality.

Sometimes
I am peace like the seashore is peace
Deep breath, night
Air cool now
Sand warm from the now gone day
True healing infinity
Is there before me
Forever sky and horizon and waves
Balance struck
Promise kept
What problem can be a problem here? But

Sometimes
The fear and anger and guilt and shame in me,
The things I’d been given as a child but told not to share
Because what would people think and who would believe it?
The things I made myself
Thinking that would make me more like them,
They feel like infinity too
And the gulf beyond the shore loses
To the bottomless one inside me.

Today
I stand on the front porch with my grandson and we catch raindrops.
It is too cold to have him outside for long, but we go anyhow because that’s what he wants, and what I want is to make him happy and watch the light come on for him as his new mind and new eyes remind me that everything, everything is new and magic like he is new and magic.

Holding that perfect boy as he catches pieces of sky, in each drop a bespoke ocean, in his perfect tiny hands, asking
What is not infinite?

What is not infinite, when you do not stand at the edge watching but instead jump in, brand new, beatific, reach out and catch the infinity and hold it and delight and go again?

Sometimes
I am shown
And see
And know
And am free.