what stays when you’ve exhausted the mind,
forcing yourself to write, to fight
yet you’re called to slow down
call a friend, ask her if she wants to have a coffee

what stays when you’re confronted,
not by pressure nor fear,
but your own lack of place, of space
to locate your story with
yet you’re reminded
that once, you committed to making
your being as a resistance

what stays with me
doesn’t have to end with me

I invite you to an embrace, a dance: Thousands of dances.