When you write and say that to be brave is to put down roots,
to reach into the soil of a community and add your own nitrogen
take a little space of the canopy, cast a shadow and stay put
I begin to feel anxious about this big sweeping map I’ve drawn
the flowchart I made today during sacrament meeting, on the backside
of a google map/substitute tissue that is smeared with black streaks
(F-train, Maybeline)
that is taking more shape as the quite days go on.
What is the impetus for this, what is sustaining this walkabout
what is it that is pulling me forward, eastward, southward?
And if it is you—
and not the soil song, and not the slaves and not the slavs
and not the notch in my spine that says go go go—
then is it the right move?
I want this to be the penultimate adventure
the one right before the one that changes it all
before that adventure of taking root with someone
somewhere.
