It’s storming ugly, hard and dark,
The world’s asleep but I am not:
I feel the burn of questioning,
For empty searching’s all I’ve got —
A roof and walls, the din outside:
The hours small, the answers few —
The thunder echoes through the sky,
And I am left with much to do,
But maybe I’m not meant to be
An answerer. For it is plain
That I’m not wider than my heart,
And I’m not bigger than
The rain
Our fates are unsuspected, for this world
Will empty cups before we’ve had our fill;
Then what you swear you’d never do gets done,
And what you think’ll never happen,
Will
“You cut your hair!” her friends exclaim.
“So what has happened? Is it bad?”
They’re thinking disappointed love,
Or something else that’s made her sad,
Or that she’s changed proclivity.
So maybe girls do that in books:
But it seems strange they never think
She might just like the way
It looks
(This odd assumption people make suggested by Ra Avis over at Rarasaur.com.)
I asked you once, when we were young,
If you thought love a burning fire;
You looked past me, tearfully,
And said, “There’s grief in all desire.”
I turned away from what you said,
An angry buzzing in my head,
For though still tender, I could see
I was unwanted, certainly.
I heard, though, one year later that
Your father had abandoned you;
Had left without so much a word,
And where he was, nobody knew,
And thought about that night, that look,
How you had been betrayed by stealth,
And how I’d been just one more guy
Who only cared about
Himself
(Assumption: “Everything is about me.”)
A chance to go to the carnival,
To dangle up in air —
To see the lights, and ride the rides
At a distant traveling fair.
A chance to smash into other folks,
And to be jostled about:
To dress a little, smile a lot,
And to generally turn out —
They had to be here, and so they came.
It’s worth the wait, the drive:
For few there are still who would miss the chance
To really feel
Alive
(Assumption – “Kids would rather just play on their phones these days.“)
Observe: the heart that knows the truth,
That sees the light, that feels the heat —
Who quiet in the study learns,
But still is welcome on the street —
Behold: the difference-maker who,
While much-respected where she goes,
Is like a river underground
Where no one knows from whence it flows —
But this — this is the barrier
Between her truth and everyone:
A different type of prejudice,
That sees no trouble, so assumes
There’s been none
She holds his hand today
Like she did when he was three
And they walked out in the gardens
And gave names to every bush and plant
She holds his hand today
Like she did when he was five
And clinging to her arm
Half-tearful, half-anticipating
On his first day of school
She holds his hand today
Like she did when he was sick
And all the doctors in the world
Couldn’t tell them what was wrong
Or how to fix it
She holds his hand today
Though the breath comes in no more
And the weight of a thousand worlds is there
And the light of a thousand suns is missing
In a giant house
Full of everything
That will evermore
Be empty
(Assumption: “Rich people never deserve sympathy.”)
Personal boundaries are not limits on love; rather, they help define the self necessary to make love possible. If people do not reach out to you at a time you think they should, remember that each of us dwells within our own wilderness, and that we all have fields to cross, mountains to climb, and weather to endure that few (if any) ever know about.
(Assumption: “If people don’t call me, they don’t care about me.”)
He works in a hospital,
Goes to the gym —
He’d love to chase love,
But the girls chase him.
It’s like a big contest,
They’ve been in for years —
He’d like to play ball,
Maybe have a few beers —
But somebody wants him
For sex or for thrills.
His boss’s wife said
She would pay all his bills.
A lot of guys hate him,
Or whisper he’s gay,
But he wants a girl,
At the end of the day,
Who he’ll have to seek,
And to try to impress:
Somebody who’s more than her
Makeup or dress,
Who’s smart, and who’s funny,
Who loves and who tries,
And sees those same qualities
In his dark eyes.
But he knows, for now,
People see what they see:
“Good looking” ain’t all
That it’s cracked up
To be
(Assumption: “Good-looking people have everything easier.”)
