Becoming

I wonder what it would be like to move slowly in this world
to be a snail and find home in me
my curves
my shell
the delicacy of my flesh.
To leave an imprint of myself
as I travel subtly
smoothly
simply
on the sun-beaten cement.

To find places of solace
on a stone
between slivers and grooves of a cedar
learning to stay
being grateful for my stubborn slime.

To become unstuck
from the bewilderment
the busy-ness
the bureaucracy
sticking to what holds me instead:
the slow path that I tread.