I am living through myself,
not through the world,
to have life.
Living through the world’s ills,
trauma hotspots,
perpetrator soft spots
and abusive thrills
made me see life as the world,
not for the love it is.
Love is the image of life in my mind
and I dwell on it when the world is again, unkind.
I get away in my vehicle of thoughts
far enough where no one can find me,
to find myself.
Life is my breath
and my being its homestead.
Life is in me until I am not in it.