The air’s stillness belies a certitude that my steps matter in this oasis.

Heavy hanging air scented with cedar and clover opens the way to freedom

Away from the constant drone of messages and expectations drowning in humidity.

Here, daisies flock and sway beckoning buzzing bumble bees.

A light shines through the trees and I swear a fairy ring illuminates the darkness

Opening a portal where I can talk freely without noise cluttering words.

There is a difference between quiet and stillness, sanctification and holiness.

I know neither unless the chatter stops but even in this holy place, peace can’t be found.

Tears water where I’ve stepped begging for solitude but all I find is connection

Drawing me away from my purpose to relieve the throbbing in my bones

With the pinging of others needing, asking, begging for holy solace I can’t provide.

Being needed is a benediction but giving without healing is obliteration.

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