I have become a counter
not just one who opposes
but a keeper of numbers
that move me forward
I count stair steps
and reps of all sorts,
with a blind faith
I didn’t know I had
I shuffle the order
mix it up
keeping track of the more difficult
and only occasionally missing a dose
My mind will drift
losing my way in my series of numbers
only to return
to my finite state
this poem makes me curious … sometimes the act of counting is a grounding practice, which it seems it is for you in this poem … in any case, it felt familiar and I thank you for sharing
I love this! There is an underlying mystery here (if one doesn’t know you) that adds an interesting element to this poem. The part about faith is surprising and wonderful, and I love the idea of a finite state.