Still Life on Bench

Still Life on Bench

On that bench, still,

for the first time

in weeks, my heart quit

shouting and whispered,

“Thank you for stopping.”


Truth slipped in with each

breath, shining its light

in every shadowed corner.


Moon tickled the river,

illuminating the freedom

rising to the surface

with each rush of laughter.


Stars stood firm, refusing

to spell out answers,

instead, begging me

to shine with courage.


Geese, coasting homeward,

honked reminders:

more being, less doing,

more heart, less head.


And now, lying in this bed,

unable to sleep,

I wish I was still

on that bench.

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