I am a specter of my former self

Holding joy at arm’s length

Often further

I do not understand it

When there is disease and poverty and hate and death

Dealt out with pain so harsh it steals one’s breath

Yet maybe joy is how I deal with it all

Laughing amongst the killing fields

A flower thrown in amongst the shields

Which defend all sorts of un-imaginables

These things, this lore, of what is not tangible

These things are so difficult to grasp

I have to open my hands, open my heart

Open my ears, accept the dart

Of tension and paradox and mystery

This is the way to jump into the fray

And still dance all along in the fury

I might just not be

I might just not be done with this wonder

This is the seemingly torrid truth of it all

I never get to the answer

I always dive deeper into the question

I never dream, I never dance at the ball

So full circle I’ve come

Full circle I’ll go

Until the gravity fields pull me right out of my row

I have looked upon all this circumstance,

and found

This is not where I dream, that is not where I dance

I must learn to be kinder to myself

I must learn to take hold of the unknown

Cuddle it like a puppy sleeping, safe in my arms

Knowing one day it could grow up and be vicious

But it could also grow up and be bold

Beautiful, warm…

If I’ll only love, if I’ll only love…

I’m not sure I am any longer a specter…




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