let’s say one day
you find what you’ve been looking for–
not your keys or your phone
or that kitchen tool you haven’t seen for years–
but something more elusive, less concrete,
like joy or hope or self-esteem.
let’s say you find that:
what do you think it will be like, then?
will you be able to pick it up,
hold it out before you,
turn it over in your hands
and feel its edges with your fingers?
or will it run between them
like water, pooling on the ground below,
taking any descending path
to fill whatever empty space is farthest down?
or will it be light as air,
something that can’t be held
by grasping hands, something that
refuses to settle at your lowest point,
something that enters your body
with your breath, does its work,
and then goes out the same way?
poem (c) 2017 D. Ohlandt
please only reprint in entirety and with credit given