Walking away is the only solution
I’ve ever excelled at, and yet,
absence does not obliterate
that which dwells within
I can pretend that I have nothing
to offer, but life and circumstance
require more: challenge me
to exhume remaining potential
Am I up to the task?
There is flattery in being looked up to,
the feeling that someone needs me –
but that is akin to temptation –
an ego play…
Could it be that wisdom acquired
has merit only when shared,
that we are all here to do our part,
that we are meant to engage?
Will I find a flow, rediscover
a synchronicity, reignite
a passion, and belong again?
Dare I hope?
(I first wrote this poem, two and half years into a debilitating illness that kept me bed bound. This version is edited, and I chose to share it now as a reminder not to give up. The answer to the questions posed is a resounding “Yes!” Image my own)