the parasite inside me is hidden but rarely is it unseen

i ask a friend if
her children
help her to feel
life is meaningful.

“no”,
she responds.
“creating things
helps me feel
my life is meaningful”,
she says,
and i wonder
how it is
her kids
came to be.

sitting is an action
so to sit
is to do.
even those with
the standing desks,
looking down
and over
their kneecaps
at the sedentarily seated,
even they will
finish their workday
and fold themselves
into some form
of support.

sitting is doing
and so is
noticing.

my father was
kind of mean.
i’ve always been
afraid of death
but now,
as death is
so much closer
than birth,
maybe,
i find death
a little less threatening.
instead,
as i do
my sitting, i
worry more about
my meanness.

i suppose it can be
meaningful
to be
kind.
with or
without
kids.
with or
without
a desk
at which to work,
a chair
in which to sit,
a floor
for the brief body.

some of us
spend our time
trying
to change,
though the trying
has never been
necessary.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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