You tell yourself one hundred times a
and you tell yourself still:
It's okay to try a new idea, even if it
makes you squirm
like a too-tight sweater with too-short
trapping your shoulders.
It's okay to try another one.
The pillows supporting your back tell
you it's okay
to spend two days a month on the sofa.
Its soft red curves remind you the
world has this way
of moving itself along without your
Your children can fend for themselves
Their animated voices, enlivened by
remind you it's okay to let them find
their own way
It's okay to let the sink fill with
and the kitchen trash stand guard one
This is not impending disaster and
there is no cartoon snowball growing
and gaining velocity down some
This is rest. This is ease. Maybe even
To let go, to close your eyelids, to
your strength returns to make the trek
out to Canarsie.
The calendar whispers that there are
other times that will be happy homes
for the tasks
on your list. And some of them are
better left undone,
just so you remember you are not
holding this great world
together, spinning it with your
tenacity and will.
It's okay to let yourself be held, be
carried a little more often
by divine winds and invisible help.
To be the recipient in equal measure as