Renee Writes

I want to tread more lightly,
to use less fossil fuel,
to diminish my carbon footprint,
to be kinder to you.

But here’s the thing:
I leave the light on.
I let the audiobook play all night,
long after I’ve finally slipped into sleep.
I drive around going no where.
I waste water standing in the shower til it’s run cold
while thoughts of everything and nothing
slip through my mind.

I’m lonely.
Do you ever feel lonely,
Earth?
I mean, yes, you have sister planets,
running rings around the same sun.
But I imagine your orbits don’t let you
pause and chat,
share stories about your woes.

Do you feel empty sometimes?
Do you need a background show playing,
a low stream of familiar voices
to keep you anchored,
stop you from spinning off into
a black hole?

You’re a mother too,
so maybe you understand.
Do you fret about your littles,
the calamity they run towards so carelessly,
fool-hardy and oblivious
to all your warnings and nudges?
Do you need familiar songs on repeat
to stop your heart from collapsing inward
under the weight of worry?

I ask you to forgive me
my small indulgences.
And I think you will.
I see the magnificence of Spring,
light and color a bit more than necessary.
Even you splurge a little extra energy on
small moments of beauty and joy,
rest and ease.