A Touch too Aware

A touch too aware, forever and always.

Of the weight on my shoulders and the pull of gravity, dragging me towards the ground;
Of my indomitable soul and spirit, that keeps me upright, nonetheless;

Of my throbbing head, and shaky knees and tiring feet;
Of the oxygen and fire and energy that move them and me;

Of the sweat that runs down my back, and my breath that becomes shallow with each step;
Of the Sun shining bright over my head- a little too hot, a little too stubborn;

Of the tall grass that breathes sweet warm vapors around my heels;
Of the bees that flit in them noisily, and take advantage of the gardener’s sleep;

Of the young souls who know not of fatigue, but get into mud-holes and trouble with a flair;
Of the old, who know of it too much, and are decidedly and firmly, not there;

Of the broken pavements that will never see repair, and the gravel and glass on the path;
Of the construction sites I dodge on my way, and the nightmarish litter of their aftermath;

Of the cats that scurry as I approach and those few precious who purr through their play;
Of the scent of summer that chokes the air, and makes me nostalgic for my home four blocks away;

Of the incoherency of the words that churn in my brain, and my writer’s block still on the mend;
Of my body and my heart, my mind, and my muscle, all of them at their tether’s end;

Of nature and people, of me and the other, of flora and fauna, of impulse and dormancy;
Of the street-smarts and the noble fools;

I will be, it seems, until the end of my times,
a touch too aware.


One thought on “A Touch too Aware

Add yours

  1. You’ve just proved me wrong and I’m so proud of you and so happy to be proved wrong. You ARE aware of your surroundings. You ARE alert. Simply in your own poetic way and not the way I want you to be.


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