Solitude

This evening, I return home

Lake Colden Sunrise. Photo: Michael Gaige

build up the fire

chop onions and carrots

add them to oil in the pan.

In a moment

loneliness sweeps over me

I weep,

resting my forehead on the counter.

I flavor lentils

with salt and red wine vinegar

and spoon them over rice.

I eat slowly

eschewing the company

of computer or radio

I wash dishes,

and set them to dry

In solitude,

my heart softens.

I bow at the altar,

perform tasks demanded

by home and body.

I make space for tenderness

and tiredness

And in the slow passage

of days, I begin

to heal.