I hate being mad at, hurt by a close friend
I hate having upset a close friend
I hate having to bring it up
If I stop breathing
If I push away – everything
If I push away annoying feelings
Tuck them away in some undisclosed portion of my gut
Shut the door, the lock’s clunk echoing into nothingness
If I pretend
Smile
Carry on
All the while seething in a walled off place in the basement of my soul
All the engine’s energy, all the engineers and workers holding back the flood
With all their might
Alarms blaring to bring in reinforcements
If I do all this…
Then what?
Then I am safe from
Love
Safe from
Growing
Sick and Tired and forgot why
NO, NO, NO
We are stronger than that
I will travel to Woodstock
With a hurt and loving heart
I will listen
I will nurture truth, the antidote to atrophy
I will imagine a cherubic beaming face emerging from within a blooming daffodil
Sharing its beauty and absorbing the cleansing rays of sun
I will imagine the possibilities of friendship and authenticity
But it is scary.
I love holding back the flood, the effort it takes to shutoff, not feel… and then turning to the daffodil
ReplyDeleteI loved the form -- the short lines to get at this very difficult material. "The basement of my soul." I've thought of that phrase all day.
ReplyDeleteGreat description of a tense inner struggle that is resolved somewhat when the narrator chooses to nurture truth instead of giving in to atrophy. The trip to Woodstock is daunting. Scary indeed!
ReplyDeletebeautiful poem, about an unresolved friendship.
ReplyDelete