Would I Not Call?
Would I not call a friend up to converse, laugh or cry?
venture from this day-to-day scene, at least try?
If this solitude is sweeter than a friend
or change of scenery,
it bodes fear that one day it might swallow the attempt
to externalize my reveries and try to live again
outside this introspection, my heartfelt understanding
that I delve into my Self and yet
I risk not the demanding
of explaining how or where I've been, what I think, feel or see
to others whom I scarcely trust
my bittersweet memories.
Would I not write a letter, or send a friendly greeting
to let some loved one know I care our hearts are beating?
Will ever come a time I jump up and run outside--
fly through the air or swim beneath
the ocean of my crime
of idle restless meandering
through the grayness of the times
I spend between the daydreams and
the realness of the grind?
Can I dream of other ways to be yet still remain
this humble, angry soul who feels such shame
from never being like my vision on the Path--
a Path that ends at my doorway with no key to fit the latch,
and another cannot enter (how I often wish
one would come inside, sit with me,
laugh, chat, cry--or catch me staring
vacant dreaming of another time).
So at present I am with myself--alone.
Will ever I resolve the inner questing of my mind,
or questions asked by it any answers ever find?
(Or do I know the answers and the questions slipped my mind?)
In grief I've found some solace, simple pleasures to just BE
until it is the time to be no more.
Memories hold me willingly as I try to solve the riddle,
reenacting why I place myself
as peacemaker in the middle
seeing through the lies while ambivalence
sees opposing sides.
I seek a solitary life to integrate my mind
and hope that I accomplish such before a split occurs
shattering this tenuous sanity that is my own.
Fragmented is not comfortable so I bluff wholeness serenely
and truly fear I am a sham
and filled with too much vanity.
Behold this Sister here before the humble mirror reflecting
out away from what's within
in pretense of perfecting.
I know there's goodness ever to be found in seeking Truth
I cannot end my search for what is me
(though I truly thought I would be found by now!)
Just maybe I am younger than my years or how I feel--
A birthing needs to happen to a newer,
a sturdy soul that stands alone
yet lives in Harmony.