For Spacious Time

A blessing poem for the dark of the year.

For Spacious Time

One meeting ends at 2:59, 
	the next begins at 3.
Red circles flag hundreds of notes
	that you have yet to read.
Finally you sit to take a breath
	and remember fifty needs.
Inevitably your mind seeks escape
	in smoke, sweets, and feeds.

Doing it all, you thought, meant you’d be done,
	and being done to rest and play.
But those who must fight every fire
	will find themselves ablaze,
or jailed by a warden surveilling their moves.
	His scrutiny makes you crazed,
for of those who do everything, he expects more,
	while others get to laze. 

The mind won’t quiet under command.
	The body won’t rest by threat.
You cannot refuse every single demand,
	but your soul you can’t forget.
May awkward moments give you space;
	events not easily set
in rigid calendars and urgent tasks—
	time taken in greater debt:

The time it takes to load a screen,
	or walk from room to room.
A traffic jam, or troubled streams
	of those needing coffee soon.
Disturbances by broken phones,
	delays of the entrancing moon. 
Failures of constant efficiencies 
	unearthing freedom’s tomb.

Let these bubbles effervesce,
	tickle and soothe your anxious brain.
In solitude the soul expands,
	its sovereign rule enflamed.
Within such cracks, genius blooms,
	and burdens of care lose pain.
Permit your heart to seek pleasure,
	complaints be better aimed. 

Let others know your no, 
	and let it be the truth.
Their tantrums and panic attacks
	are not exactly proof
that your posture of appeasement
	is all they need to soothe. 
Claim more and more your precious time,
	and no longer collude.

Your anger is not a sour cough,
	but the exhale of a friend
coming to rest after hard labor,
	waiting for you to attend. 
May your cares fill you with light
	and if they don’t, amend
the wound between inside and out
	and let suffering end.