My mistakes are legion.
I tell anyone who will listen that
Life is a series of choices.
Somehow I manage not to apply
This (sage wisdom) to myself.
That ubiquitous they point to
A screaming gut; intuition they say,
As a grand listening point.
I ask: why is it my gut made no fuss
...'til now?
Love is blind, they say.
Maybe they speak of infatuation?
I choose to believe"they" are confused
Because now I supposedly love and
If this is love I don't like it.
My gut (intuition?) is screaming like
A spirit trapped on the wrong side of heaven.
I'm told I should feel happy to leave all
My familiarity behind; watch my life's credits
Rolling up my screen; too fast to read.
What is love? What is happy?
My screaming gut doesn't enunciate well
But sometimes, when it's breathless
And can only moan, I think I hear it say
"Sometimes love and happy are friends..."
I've never felt happy, so maybe, despite
The love word, I have never loved?
I think there is truth in there.
Yet...
Here I am, leaving my familiars;
Leaving me again.
This time my gut screamed and
I listened. I simply chose not to
Heed.
This time I'm smart enough to be
Very afraid.
No comments:
Post a Comment