Drink of the Sun, and be Filled

Each ping heralds
arrival of another email, another notification,
another tweet or blog or task or event
or responsibility or celebrity scandal
and each increases that tightness in your back
that you’ve grown so accustomed to
that you forget it’s there.

It’s there.

And once you feel it loosen, you’ll realize
just how hypertense these trivialities
under the pretense of significance
have left us.

You won’t listen to me, I know that,
but that won’t stop me from trying;
after all, isn’t that my task as a writer?
Set your phone aside, and your computer
(stop reading this poem immediately,
if you wish)
and leave your AirPods on the desk.
Unelectric, unplugged,
Simply take your spirit and leave.

A difficult task these days,
but find an unpopulated mountaintop
(a boulder or open field will suffice
should a mountaintop prove elusive)
and face the sun

and close your eyes,
open your arms,
open your soul,

and drink.

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