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by Edna Wallace, LMFT

When you’re sick
of your husband
and you’ve looked
at your phone
a thousand times
and there’s nothing new
(imagine that?),
you tell the world
you’re going for a walk
and you go.
Well, first you fuss
with your shoes
and coat
and sunglasses
and list
(which needs updating)
and then you go.

There’s something
that happens
when you’re out.
Your body does
its thing.
You’re moving.
The sun is there
just for you.
You’re cushioned
by a soft breeze.
You’re 100% alive.
You’re happy
(imagine that?).

Your husband
isn’t actually a jerk.
Your lists are
manageable.

Whatever you pass,
it hardly matters.
It’s you in you,
moving.
It’s that miracle
you rarely
remember
to thank
your body for
until that day
that it’s gone.