Pockets of Solitude<\/p>\n
By<\/p>\n
Jennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
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It\u2019s easy to close your eyes<\/p>\n
Surrounded by such stillness,<\/p>\n
And the light from bright windows<\/p>\n
Beyond which the day busies itself<\/p>\n
With so many purposeful things to do.<\/p>\n
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It\u2019s easy to stand in the middle of the living room<\/p>\n
And become a winter tree, draped with a shawl<\/p>\n
Of silence.<\/p>\n
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It\u2019s easy to slip away into pockets of solitude<\/p>\n
Where the keys to doors drifting away<\/p>\n
Become little bird bones of a life lost<\/p>\n
To a childhood of summer breezes filled<\/p>\n
With fear.<\/p>\n
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It\u2019s easy to let the quiet become your body,<\/p>\n
To become as a cup in a cupboard,<\/p>\n
A microscope in a dark closet, hunched over,<\/p>\n
Like a monk studying spirals on vellum leaves.<\/p>\n
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It\u2019s easy to never wish again, to can\u2019t help<\/p>\n
But noticing how fragile you are, fragile<\/p>\n
And yet primed to become a leviathan<\/p>\n
In the sea of your own life.<\/p>\n
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