I’ve run at breakneck speed
all my life
to not be my parents.
Maybe I can stop now
and walk.

All my life I’ve filled my head
so as not to be empty.
Maybe now I can let be.
I love smelling soup
on my fingers.

I’ve been given permission
to return to an old way of being,
stay home, live simply.
What a relief not to be driven to excess.

If we are at end times,
maybe I can breathe deep
be filled with grace.