pi & anne

I start the day badly. I grab my phone and scroll. I pause at a post someone shared, the words of a holistic ‘coach’: I know I should stop right there but I read. He says it is wrong to strive for comfort. That asking and being asked for consent each time means running away from discomfort. I feel… uncomfortable.

I know
before I see
a flock of crows

The bed is warm. The shutters slowly lighten up. I cry, and I try to shift my thoughts. A visit at the vet later, hoping my rabbit is better. I realize that even reaching for my smartphone was driven by… Sorge. The German word doesn’t distinguish necessarily worry from care. I worry. Ich mache mir Sorgen. I care for someone. Ich sorge für jemanden, ich kümmere mich.

a twig’s twitch in my face
that a stranger gropes
my dignity

I haven’t quite found my balance yet. Let me cry now. Then I’ll get up and make coffee, and be there. As best as I can. And I will demand that people wait for my consent, as is my right.

stand out of my sunlight
the flower
and the skyscraper