a blank space
life left next to you-
not so much in the way of instructions
just this space
flexible like a bendable
rubber stick- but it always
returns to the shape
it remembers-
left unattended, it will
continuously poke at you.
When you finally realize
it has been trying to get
your attention, it goes
into hiding.
The space
remains the same and empty –
which flowers you place
around the frame depends
upon yourself.
I know- getting flowers from
such depleted soil is almost
impossible-
but a stair can go only so far
build upon steps of maybes
and there’s always that flower
that appears in your garden
out of nowhere with its
confidence as if saying
you can begin here.
"Sometimes" is printed here with permission of the author.
The ALL Review is pleased to present our How to Live series, poems chosen to help readers navigate these difficult and rapidly changing times.
