Surrounded,

I scan the area:

shelves full of disarray;

hangers tilted, the folds undone;

sparkling dust dancing in sunlight,

and setting atop smooth surfaces

and into nooks unused.

 

I am outnumbered.

I am called to enjoy the day,

but first – my space.

 

The space in which I breathe,

the space in which I carry my thoughts,

and the space in which I must find myself.

 

My space is sacred.

So no, I cannot leave it.

I fight against inertia,

to make room for me.