Thursday, May 16, 2024

Presence - May 15 2024

 

Presence

May 15 2024


The post-it note

I’d stopped noticing.

That had been so long in place

the ink had faded

edges curled

adhesive lost its stick.


Which is how it caught my eye;

its absence

like a vacuum

drawing me in.

As if the brain, in its depths

keeps track of these things,

reassuring us

as we go about our business

that there’s an order to this world

whether we know it, or not.


It had fallen to the floor.

Of course, the reminder meant nothing anymore,

so who knows

why I left it up so long.

Yet that empty spot

was calling out to be filled,

the way your tongue

keeps returning to the hole

where the tooth was pulled;

worrying the gum

and probing incessantly.


Even a blank note would do;

the empty space filled

order restored.


And now, there it was,

an eye-catching yellow

as distracting

as the emptiness had been.

Still, it felt right,

like something

on the verge of tipping

set firmly in place.


A reminder

that absence is not nothingness.

And that being present

is a thing in itself.


That showing up

is comfort enough,

no need

to speak up

or draw attention to yourself.


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