While I Wait

My life is lived--

truly lived--

with a tired left hand

and a broken right wing.

I am a childless mother,

a student-less teacher,

and the person I am

hates the person I've been.

I am learning to walk

on water.

I control

and care

and count

and carry

sometimes

too much.

I thrive in a mindset others consider

a narrow

trap.

I wish I lived in a computer-less, car-less, courtship

time

where things weren't

simpler

but the way we did them

was.

Now everything

loads

and drives

and we are loaded down

with downloads.

 

But me? Someday I will be free.

Flying

and free.

For now, I'm

broken, but

I'm me.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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