SOMETIMES

Sometimes I see my daughters, my lovers, my parents, my friends, my family, myself

all connected

With soft sticky paper

that hurts when removed,

With the prick of thumbtacks

that will do the job for now

With long stringy strings

that often get tangled

With all manner and means

to keep us together

With fear

that tacks rust;

paper wilts in bad weather.

Sometimes

I feel lonely and want to reach out

Feel the prick of the tack,

the ouch of the sticky,

the tug of the string.

And sometimes I don't.

Sometimes

I see me alone with my God

I watch from afar

You are who you are

I am who I am

And I love.

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