Agency

By Andrew R. Duckworth

While reflecting, occasionally
I question whether I’m driving
Or just riding along,
Whether I know where I’m going
Or my feet are just moving.
It feels, from time to time,
As if someone has come
And stolen the steering wheel,
Removed my agency,
And I walk without aim,
Just looking at the fields
As I pass them by,
And I just pass it off
As exhaustion, just too tired
To move with focus behind my feet.
At least I can still reflect.