Just Uncomfortable Enough.
You are never quite sure whether each new start
is a leap into something new or an avoidance
of the hard work of overcoming inertia where you sit,
never sure if moving is the answer to that restlessness
that has always haunted you, or a way to avoid
the change needed to remain in place.
Perhaps you need new scenery, new hills
and the challenge of becoming new yourself,
but whatever the reason, yours is a life of change,
every few years a left turn to the path
that leaves you uneasy.
Just uncomfortable enough.
About this poem.
It started as something else, a paen to how belief keeps us going, often beyond rationality. Thus the picture.
By the time I was done, the poem became something else, But I love the picture, so I left it. It is not far from my home near Salem, NY.