Posts Tagged ‘cross the line’

One day I just stopped
drawing the line, the one
that I did not want you
to cross. But you would
cross it anyway. Again.
And again. And I would
redraw the line. Sometimes
red. Sometimes black.
Sometimes with my scent.
And you would cross
it again. And then one day,
yesterday, I realized
I had forgotten, who knows
for how long, to draw the line.
And there you were, poking
around in my garden, again,
only there was no charge
in my noticing, no juice. I felt
no urge to curse you nor confront
you nor send you off.
I thought I might miss it, this
boundary, this habit
of pushing you away.
But the absent line
left something marvelous
in its place—surprise.
And an empty grace.

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