On Living

Once I was small, born
pushed into this world
and someone cared for me
fed, changed, clothed
made sure I was warm
loved the best that they could
until I was able to do it myself.

First moving
fingers, hands, seeing
then the many movements
wobble, then small steps
until run, leap, turn
all in the many ways to live this life.

Frustrated at how time can stand still,
change things, and leave some things the same.
Waiting for or with or yearning for something to happen now or yesterday,
not realizing how lucky we are to just be here at all.

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