CALL ME BELOVED

I’m grasping for handholds, trying
to take those same leaps I used to –
back a scant few years that feel like eons
to a self I scarcely recognize.
I tell myself it was easier then,
old hurts easily dismissed
so that I can live vicariously through
a life that’s already been lived.

I walk through my days questioning
the ground beneath my feet, and then
those very feet taking careful steps.
I question my perception, the glimpse
of desire to photograph the destitute
alley beside the apartments, piles
of discarded furniture that has been
made, touched and put aside.

I tell myself this is beautiful,
but I wonder.