notes from the nice side of the fence

when I cried they would ask if I had wanted a new toy
when I was tired they would pour me a cup of coffee
when I smiled and laughed they would pat me on my back
when I was silent they’d pop a bottle open
when my fever ran there would always be medicine at hand
when it came down again, maybe a shopping trip
whenever I was bored they would switch the telly on
whenever I was angry - they’d ignore me
when I became depressed there’d be clowns balloons and trumpets
when I became ecstatic it would be met with cold reason
when things went rough they would try and hoist me onto crutches
when things went swimmingly they’d poke and spur me

now that I’ve grown closer
I guess I know a little better
I don’t see everything as in need of fixing

and I tremble at the love that must have driven them those ways
and I’d rather have life flow through me instead

in a time of great strife and struggle.
if you can just
lean against the oak
feel how solid.
drink the water
walk the room
turn around
touch the wall
touch the skin
breathe the air between wall and skin
notice the space between the thoughts
notice too the urge to fill it.
(sometimes it’s a full time job)

feel it
and if tears come
cry
sit
lie down
stand up again
look outside the window
nothing begs for your collecting
nothing ever did

drink the water
touch the wood
see the paper
without reading
let the phone ring
for that is music too

if you are in a time
of great strife and struggle
take a moment
take a year
taste the humility
of cocooning
without the knowing of butterflies

could I have ever suspected
that I could give up and give in
to the love already there
without wanting it inflated
could I have anticipated
this opening of arms
the satisfaction of only touching his hair

no I could not
I sincerely thought
an illusion can only disperse
by the supposed light of its own fulfillment

and in this I was always waiting
coerced into manipulating
when even the greatest achievement
would have been just a sculpture of ice

and now that I’m finally breathing
beginning to see the real light
now I have all these gifts at my feet
I do not even have names for yet

a philosophy of freedom part 1