This Morning, You Looked

Poetry

This morning, you looked
into the palm of your hand to see
if you could find the path that leads
out of the heart.

That weight of the world is ancient,
and centuries long.
Breathe into it, as if the belly is an oasis

Is this any more than a game of loss and gain?
                               You do well to ask.
Follow the signs,
for often the road is narrow and precise.

Nothing blooms outside the truth of its moment.
Even time honours the strictures of timelessness.

Breathe into it, this grace.
The rest, brace for impact.

E. Okereke
Berlin, August 2025