30 / 30 : ecclesiastes 9:11.

last poem of the month.

it's been crazy, crazy crazy.

thank you for reading. ive enjoyed the criticism and encouragement.

start your own. keep writing. and reading.

everyone's a poet.

ecclesiastes 9:11

i woke up this morning 

for the first time in four months

without my mother down the hall

to the sound of an incoming message

to my phone

i lazily rolled over 

in my freshly washed linen

in my freshly cleaned room

to a text from her that

declared

the race goes not to the swift

nor the strong

but he who endureth 

in the end

ecclesiastes 9:11

right now i'm in the race for my life

to make sure my future fits 

securely in my palm and snug

in my pocket 

pressed and panicked

each stroke of the clock would set me

off 

but reading that

from the wisest woman that i know

made me smile and i slowly

relaxed

fell back asleep