The sovereignty of rest in a hustle culture
The grace of saying no to what doesn’t align
A vesper whispered in the golden close of day
Ore et labore, and laborare est orare,
But so are the dreams and imagination
That conjures a different kind of world.
You used to kiss me until you could feel my heartbeat
Quickening its step like I quickened mine to reach you
On a random Tuesday evening,
I’d brought a jar of pasta sauce and some fresh asparagus
To cook you dinner at the end of a workday
And it felt like heaven.
There’s a divinity in the quotidian
To the untrained eye
The one that hasn’t been trained yet to see
Investment opportunities,
The one that sees dimples of cellulite on a thigh akin to lace
And marvels at every passing dog on the street.
To love you well I have to love the world
And to love the world is to remember I
Am of that world
And to love that too.
To embrace you, I embrace the dialectic:
Separate to be together.
Individually show up for the collective.
Freedom in our connections,
Liberation in our intersections.
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