A poem about allowing yourself to be. |
the misanthrope was sure looked down at all the madness and plucked me out like a splinter "these games are not your games" she said peeled off my mask and showed me the green face I wore "I confess," I balked at my own words a confession nonetheless there is no fifth to plead when life is sitting red all over your hands I have stolen all of my own endowments away invested them in shams every glimmer, every hopeful word, every passion I have taken my potential and filled it with poison and handed it out as parting gifts "Do, Do, DO," they all said on each little note but life is easier to say than to do though you don't have to say as much to know it but yesterday I listened, and I rode out to the sea (I sanded myself down on its shore it wanted more and more, I laid my honor down I shaved myself down to a little pin, and picked my faith back up again then there in that lovely ocean under the moon smiling down, my blithe sentry) I washed off my green face I washed the sand from my hair and unfolded the face I never wear It is not an ugly face, it is only mine it is just the truth I've held at a distance this whole time it is the me that scared me before, so I locked it away but now I've brought her out of her tower with my own key I built this key with hope cut this key decidedly alone a natural turn, the turning was my own I threw away all the "you"'s I took back all the missing and the yearning I took back the hunt and the harvest and brought it down to the bottom of my heart to have a heart again and call myself a friend |