Again From Here

I wake with questions again.
The mirror shrugs back.
Coffee tastes like yesterday reheated.

I’ve drafted brave oaths before.
Calendars ghosted my calls.
Doors I swore shut, crack.

Still, the heart taps glass.
Walk, it says, and breathe.

I am not new, friend.
Weathered spine, pages that hold.
Scars kept like ticket stubs.
Proof I showed up anyway.
Let them point the way.
Old constellations, crooked, true.

This is not a page turn.
Same page, better light.
Familiar road, steadier feet.
The embrace feels new.

I drop weights not mine.
Old disappointments, stay behind.
Gravel out of my shoes.
I’ll walk barefoot, call it prayer.

I’ll laugh at tidy plans,
then draw one anyway.
Greatness? No, just not still.
So I move a step.
A small step, a quiet yes.

Let tomorrow find me useful.
Counted on, more dawn than drum.
Leave my name quiet.
Let the work be song.

If seas part, I cross.
If not, I swim smiling.
Either way, shore waits.
Quiet, certain as a psalm.

I begin with questions.
I continue with mercy.
I end with trust.

Again, from here.
Again, with breath.
Again, with love.