Cracks in the Sidewalk

That feeling when you accept

the unacceptable.

The shaky breath that only you

seem to feel.

The hesitancy in your eyes

when contemplating the question –

Why must life be so precise,

so known, so tangible,

as to forget the

mystery of the sky,

and oceans,

and millions of years of change

that make you shake

as if you were just a tremor

that was barely felt, maybe cracked a sidewalk

on an overcast day?

They call you existential,

you call yourself

alive.

But mainly,

you call yourself a mess

Just living this way

is as if

you were in the middle

of a

tempest

the feeling of Falling

of

empty

cold

gales of

wind and water and fear

would be enough

to send anyone running

into the corners of their own

dark head,

but when you are in that

corner

in that place

you must remember

that everyone walks on sidewalks,

even on the cracks.

Everyone can look down

and see

the grass

or flower

or piece of green

that struggled so hard to

live and grow in that

hostile place

and they will

see

that life can happen anywhere

and can be lived thoroughly,

even in the toughest

of places,

of circumstances,

or of minds.