By Myself Alone

We have gathered in twos and threes,
drawn together, linking in the same town
as if we can be nourished by the juxtaposition.

Still, I woke feeling alone in all the world,
wondering why the oldest thinks always of
running to some better place. Is there a better

place? The place resides within us. We
are … I am unique unto myself though I sprung
from the same loins and share the same blood.

I live or die within myself whether I am standing
separately or gathered with the other acorns fallen
from our family tree. It is my lungs sucking in the air

of my life, and the best I can do is reach out
and hold up what is myself so there will be no rent in
the weave of our collective. Though separate, I am not alone.

That comfort of community given by my birth,
however ragtag or beautifully bound, whatever
likenesses or differences, is the greater measure of me.

And that mix is passed along. There is no
mystery, yet it is profound. We have our fate, and
we act on it simply by existing. We are, but we might shape.