difficult on cold winter’s
nights when snow falls
almost malevolently
to cover the hard work
and salt from yesterday
when it was a false spring.
I swept aside the beautiful white powder and dyed it turquoise to keep drains open til morning light.
It’s not so easy to keep our
inner drains open for worries
that eat away at our souls.
No salt to melt frigid feelings
of fear. No broom to sweep them
away into an open drain. So we
take a breath, lift our palms
up to the air, to imagine them
flying away like moths that they
are. Fragile, dusty and pesky.
“Worry drains the mind of its power and,
sooner or later, it injures the soul.”
~ Robin Sharma, lawyer
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