[Image description: photo of a small, square flowerpot with a gray base and brown top border, filled with old, dry potting soil.]

Finding myself once again
lost, adrift, unsure what to do with
all these unknows collected along the way.

Scattering chaff,
what I hope is chaff,
then combing through remnants
for anything useful.

Schemes to get back to myself failing,
remaining dormant, resorting to deep breaths
to ward off despair.

All attempts to restart unable to thrive,
like seeds in last year’s potting soil,
refusing to germinate without renewal.

Spiraling, possibly out of control,
possibly back around
to deeper knowing of a truth
that saved me from myself before.

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