a perfect day
she gets up early to go practice her song.
one more time.
before she shares.
she shares it/herself.
the song/she is beautiful.
one wonders how much difference diligence to practicing an art – your art – can make.
she notices a quarrel.
she quietly slides into the picture.
offering her lap.
that’s all that was needed.
she dances with her brother.
she organizes a gathering.
she leans into it.
wrestling with it.
not getting it.
the day is past its end.
she’s still not done.
so in comes the tone/air/question.
responsibility to what?
what might she have taken out of her day for that?
as a mom, i would choose nothing.
it was a perfect day.
i’d remove the invisible, yet incredibly loud, omnipresence, of this mandated/assumed responsibility.
it’s hastening a death.
a death i don’t choose for my own.
so why are we letting that stay?
why have i not yet removed that?