It’s Time to Stop Sitting

It’s time to stop sitting,

my loves -

not just in the physical,

although that’s where one must begin,

but in the sitting to your rising.

You say you don’t like it -

the hot flush of regret sagging,

pulling on your lungs and heart

and jaundiced hopes

like belted sandbags.

But you know, by lived experience,

and terrorizing surrenders,

that you’ll feel better if you do.

You always do when you move.

Even frenetic squirms from maniacal fears

help us crawl toward movement,

propulsion pulling from vision and the visceral,

back to awareness that you are wind.

And you know that wind cannot be contained.

It’s time to stop sitting.

But how utterly strange that we try,

lifetime after lifetime -

homesteading in pools of opinion,

shriveling from a grandparent’s fears,

traced back to

a self-appointed Puritan

who knew nothing of the ambidextrous.

It’s time to stop sitting.

For what curses your joy the most

is knowing this,

so deeply -

yet maintaining addiction to the fillers and convictions

you believed were noble and necessary,

because someone grew seeds

from the book of myths

and called it right.

It’s time to stop sitting.

It’s always time.

For there is no such thing as the past;

there is only the now,

followed by more now,

and more now.

So hear it, please:

It’s time to stop sitting.

Rise, even a little.

It’s time to stop sitting.

Breathe, even once.

It’s time to stop sitting.

It’s time to stop sitting.

Stop sitting……