While The Door Is Locked

I move to paradise, then discover
it’s an insidious fixer-upper.
The light reveals the need for a new tool.
A mutable to-do list seeks to rule

my path. My practice to place my bare feet
demands a pooper-scooper, for the geese
love this luxuriant grass, leave white snakes
that–grounded and mindful–I remove, make

the morning routine a cleaning hour.
Hints of dreams tease. A door slams. I’m locked out
of the sick house where irritable men
blame and shout. What flusters them: pure fear. When

all else fails, they heap their scorn on me, smite
with fury words. Imagine their surprise.
I’m standing in my truth through bluster’s blow.
Earthed, diligent, evolving heart and soul.

Inspired by yesterday’s Pristine, Smite, Mindful, Fluster and today’s: Diligent, Fixer-Upper and Mutable.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

8 thoughts on “While The Door Is Locked”

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