Poem: In The Moment

The cursor blinks.
A small white pulse—
breathing for me
while I listen.

Somewhere, a fan hums,
a clock remembers time
better than I do.
My shoulders rise. Fall.
That’s all the plan.

A thought arrives
without knocking,
sets its shoes by the door:
stay.

So I do.

This second is not loud.
It doesn’t need to be.
It tastes like unfinished sentences,
like hands resting
instead of reaching.

I am here—
not ahead, not behind—
just enough heartbeat
to call this
now.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie