a work in (slow) progress

i move at a glacial pace

how to explain the fuzz

in my head

the sifting through the thoughts

to figure out which ones

are clear

or fair

or rooted in reality

and which ones are felt as rejection when

no rejection is there

i move at a glacial pace

how to convey that sometimes

i can grasp at a thought

and it slips away

a beginning and an unformed end

i move at a glacial pace

how to let you know that i form sentences

and paragraphs

and whole conversations

in my mind

that break off like chunks of ice and

drift and

melt away somewhere

between my brain and my mouth

and surrounding all this icy slowness

is fear

and uncertainty

and self-doubt

and self-blame

not-enoughness

and too-muchness

and unworthiness

and kindness

and care

and sadness

and hope

and joy

and despair

and a love that is as boundless as it is slow

my love is glacial and also rapid-fire

it sits quietly and folds clothes

it springs to action in a crisis

it will do anything at any time for those it attaches itself to

with no expectations of the same.

but hope.

plenty of hope