The sun/son

Her mind has entered into a place of
no-mind
she cannot tell if this is a good thing
or bad
but the sunlight on the desktop
is beautiful
she moves through her days
endlessly
pursuing the happiness
that she knows resides in her heart
if only she can access that
tight closed place

The sun
on the mountain
in the morning
on the drive to work
inspires her to exclaim to her son
Oh! Look at that!
As the moon on the other side
shouts out to her
you can do this!
You are going to be fine!
Even if your period never comes
and the IUD you got when you
were still married to your husband
is shouting out in pain
trying to expel itself from your body

you can take one small step and
one deep breath
you can drop off your boy and
go to work
you can marvel at the beauty of
the sun.

Refracted

The sun is different this time of year, she notices.
And not just because it’s going down earlier, setting even before she leaves
work now,
but also in how it slants through her windows, piercing her eyes,
reflecting off of her desk in bright
sideways rays which make it hard to see things clearly.

Too much light, refracted off of surfaces
can make it hard to see, she notes.

She pauses now, collecting her spirits,
noticing the darkness has grown significant,
surprising for this time of day.
(Was it cloudy when she stepped outside? She can’t remember.)

Sips her coffee,
which is too hot.
Turns on a desk lamp.

Thinks for a bit.
What is being avoided today?
Typically in a given day, she knows she is avoiding something.
Maybe it’s work that needs to happen,
or maybe something more important, like psychological work.
Digging through old scars to get to the point of things.

Dredging up that old dreck is no fun,
she thinks. Maybe I’ll save it for another day.

She steps back from the poem she is writing,
stops again to look at the great expanse of freedom before her
and wonders why she feels so stuck.