Saturday, April 9, 2016


strangely drawn
to the way of tripping hazards.
to reminders of the breakable.
to remind that you should risk to break.

but make no mistake:
even caught up in this dream
you know it is all irreplaceable.
all of it.

the uncomfortable truth is:
your hands just can’t hold
all that you want to cradle at once
(and your heart can’t either.)

and this creates a fever,
forces you into the dance we each learn alone,
with both feet half lame,
bruised and aching.

you feel your heart breaking.
but this is a sort of self-preservation
and a realization that maybe it is easier
to, sometimes, proactively forget.

you say you’re “just not ready yet”
but welcome to Hesitation
population: Too Many to Count
where Time is never Time enough.

and this is undeniably tough:
to uproot your heart
so you can catch a glimpse of an origin
(since you have a blindness for endpoints.)

as you come unhinged at the joints
you wonder: “maybe i’m just better on paper?
better at living, breathing, and speaking through paper?”
(safe and sound, and sound asleep).

this foreshadowing of hindsight has drawn you in deep
into the burdensome realization that:
to deny yourself the difficult
is often to deny the chance to share your worth.

this is a sort of rebirth:
to open up every uncomfortable place inside yourself
to set free the bird caged within
before its wings atrophy beyond repair.

and this is laying your heart bare
as you’re getting old, and want something to lean on.
but - (maybe) - it is this constant leaning forward
that keeps us constantly young.

and this is the song that’s being sung:
to store up Light,
like it’s going out of style
to recall to regular memory
all that makes life worthwhile.

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