I don’t mind holding this space of quiet solitude
the world has thrashed me for so long
overstimulated
oversaturated
overloaded
with what i
should have
should want
should need
But what about what I need?
sweet wilderness of the heart is mine
not split into three million
speckled, molded, broken flakes
I sow
yearnings
I nurture
growth
I feed
healing hunger
without giving away immature fruit as I have done for a lifetime already.