TESLACARE

THERE ARE MOMENTS WHEN I DRIFT TOO FAR —

INTO THOUGHT, INTO WRITING, INTO SCREENS,

INTO EVERYTHING THAT PULLS ME AWAY FROM WHAT’S REAL.

AFTER LONG WALKS THROUGH EMPTY STREETS,

QUIET ALLEYS, AND CITY CORRIDORS,

WITH MY CAMERA IN HAND,

THIS SMALL PLATE BECAME A QUIET RITUAL OF RETURN.

I KEEP IT CLOSE — SOMETIMES UNDER MY FEET,

SOMETIMES BENEATH MY HANDS —

AND IT REMINDS ME THAT THE BODY IS AN ANTENNA,

THAT STILLNESS HAS ITS OWN FREQUENCY.

IT’S NOT A PROMISE OR A FIX.

IT’S A WAY TO LISTEN —

TO FEEL THE HUM BENEATH ALL MOVEMENT,

TO COME BACK TO WHAT’S ALREADY HERE.