You are my practice in nonattachment,

Boundaried love

To contain a wave that could flood
Us both
I have no claim to you
So I withhold
The apotheosis

Of emotion,

burdensome and weighty,
And instead learn
To be


With what is and
Meet where met,
Gifted in
And rivulets of time
That will carve
Memory to impermanent skin,
My heart aching for inscription too



Written by Dr. Allison Mitch, PT (DPT).  Material is copyright protected.  For questions or collaboration, please email


Note for the reader:  Who is the You? I have discussed this before in my writing and wish to address it again.  I sometimes write with a person in mind, other times the collective, or draw from a specific lived experience of a friend or loved one; sometimes it is all of these combined or none at all. I believe that the greater the talent of the writer, the greater the number of readers that will feel seen and question “Am I the You?”   Probably (not).  This one was inspired by a specific someone, and they are aware of the gift of this poem.  If you are a writer, who are your Yous?