In All These Ways

If I am lost, let me be lost.
If I am sad, let me be sad.
But I do not feel lost. Or sad.

I am here struggling, fighting, trying and trying and trying. I am stumbling and rising again. Testing the boundaries and feeling the weight of boundaries pushing back. They are as frustrated as I am. With this tug of war we play, and the always-moving center seemingly forever lost or washed away. But I do not feel lost. Or sad.

I know.
That this is the time.
Now.
To be fighting it out. With boundaries. And ideals. Relations and loves.
Trying to define reality and shape my life - I am. Alone.
In all these ways.

Aware, suddenly, of ticking clocks, time moving with military precision. Unlike a rushing river of time, sweeping you off your feet, depositing you in another place. It marches next to me, forcing solidarity and camaraderie. It doesn’t scream biological, familial, nesting, in my ear. It croons of purpose, intention, vibrancy, awareness. Softly, steady, comforting, over the intimidating percussion of its linear footwork. Always moving forward steadily. As I try to circle, slide backwards, or jump ahead. Unsuccessfully. But I do not feel lost. Or sad.

I know that this is the time.
To surrender to this struggle; submerge in its strength; scream out silently;
And reach out my hand.
For yours. Without name, or face, or relation.
But your hand is there, and that is all I need. To know
I am Not Alone.
In all these ways.