Where are you going?

It can seem strange when you lose grounding

to remember to hold space.

if we remember;

when we remember,

I should say,

that place has not changed

just because we added distance.

many things add distance —

and yet not enough of us,

not enough of the time,

sense what place has emerged.

we sense when we grow oafish,

disillusioned maybe,

when our cheeks are wet with sad.

we sense that our bodies need to move;

that sweat and strides suit us,

but not that we are home.

that where we are,

always,

is bodied.

maybe the question isn’t where are you,

because proximities transition

with the unconsciousness

of seconds counting

down.

We ask —

what have you brought with you here,

and before we can answer,

bodies do what they do best.

Sync to other bodies,

and reflect back.

Absorb and imbibe energy.

Receive and hold information.

Gag and purge.

Carry and hold weight.

Experience and record.

Ground,

and hold space.

Strange really,

that home is a place

we rarely live,

and space is somewhere

we think we aren’t already.

Good thing we feel differently.