I am small ordinary easily overlooked.
I have told myself this long enough, then
I realized I am as small as a bolt
In a suspension bridge, as ordinary
as a commute on a windy day and
overlooked at one’s own peril. I recognize
the depth of the hole I will leave behind,
seeing my value even if no one
else does until the morning of swaying
buckling bucking collapse. I will hold me in
the palm of my own hand feeling my weight
admiring my strength marveling at
my design. I will put me in my own
pocket I will build, I will suspend belief
circularstaircase 