The Return

The Return

I watch the sunset almost every day now,
a reminder of my smallness and living.
I learn to trust new routines and second chances.
I’d like to be more grateful.

Reminders of my smallness are
abundant now that I pay attention,
and I am feeling more grateful.
I touch the trees in my neighborhood,

abundant, now that I pay attention.
I see the little lizards hiding in the bushes.
I touch all the trees in my neighborhood
and tell them how much I’ve missed them.

To the little lizards hiding in the bushes,
I offer my shadow under the midday sun
and tell them how much I’ve missed them
when I stand to watch the little spider weaving.

My shadow moves under the midday sun.
I count the spoonbills nesting near the pond.
And I watch a cocoon the little spider is weaving
while the edge of water blushes with rose plumes.

I count the spoonbills nesting near the pond.
I trust their new routines and second chances.
The edge of water blushes with rose plumes
when I watch the sunset almost every day now.

Monica Pernia Marin is a geriatrician and a palliative care physician. She lives in Tampa, Florida and will be soon relocating to NYC to complete additional medical training, this time in the field of neuro-oncology. This happens after she takes time away from clinical practice to grief the death of a parent, process past trauma, and recover from depression. The poem portrays the moment she began paying attention again to her surroundings and feeling closer to nature and to others. The pantoum repeats the act of contemplation to bring the reader back to a sense of belonging, connection, and peace.