The Work of Life

The work of life
by kate ballbach

Jobs come and jobs go
The work of life, wreathed with fear and failure, never lets up
We carry a thousand yesterdays of burdens and a small army of tomorrows cares
Reaching for distraction or fast tracking connection, we blindly give away our autonomy to shiny things and notification sounds
We seek more input, or attention, while solitude waits in the wings
eager to take a long walk in the park.
She waits, through the bender and after the detox, confident she is the best algorithm to live by.
You only have to put on your shoes
And wade through the awkward silences, skipping or stomping if you please
Asking your scattered brain to slow down the pace so your head and heart can join in conversation
You are not being graded on whether that conversation is lively or barely detectable
Thank God.
It is simply noticing your body, not his or hers, but the guts and glory of yours walking for you because you can do things
Or that small patch of green grass and a few crooning birds flooding your senses because you can feel things
Or the smell of car exhaust mixed with roses because your nose knows the work of life can’t just be a walk in the park
New hope, big or small, might spring from a small screen but chances are better with a long walk in the park