In one of those moments,
when my heart is open to wound,
a sadness winds in and visits briefly,
reminds me that I am human,
and that my troubles weigh on me
as they do on all the others,
the silent, and the loud.
I sift through them, finding the one that seems to matter,
hold it up, blow the dust off,
and wonder if tomorrow I will care as much as I do today.
Will the dust accumulate again and dull the pain,
lighten the burden,
until I decide to let it dry out, and turn into dust itself,
forgotten, leaving perhaps a scar in its place.
In that same moment I sit, I see, I listen, I feel,
the games and turmoils of others swirl around me
pulling at me, threatening to pull me in,
some hurled my way,
creating new worries, troubles, fears.
Most wash by, not in my circus today,
but all leave a trace nonetheless,
a sense of danger, an empathy, a sadness.
I watch as others struggle through their own storms,
Some making it rain and crying for the dampness,
all hiding their pain in myriad ways,
parrying, fighting for control, struggling not to drown in fear,
others not aware they stopped fighting long ago and died,
many keeping their arms up, their hearts closed, hiding,
to keep the violence and pain at bay.
Too many creating drama and rot in others
in a life and death struggle with themselves,
to control the narrative that others see,
to cloak the damage that is their center
by hurling pain and strife into the stream,
that it stain others, that it focus on others;
you cannot hurt me if I cause you pain.
In these uncalloused moments I am profoundly sad.
Why, when we know in ourselves the pain and the turmoil,
do we cause it in others?
Why do we find succor in false gods, false beliefs, anger,
when real peace is within another a word away?
We are renewed when kindness is shown even to strangers;
knowing this powerful love, why do we deny it to others,
ourselves?
This is our end,
that we forget that we are alone in this but for each other,
that kindness and compassion are the human way,
that we are capable of so much more,
if we would just stop being afraid.
It is in that moment, when we let go of fear, when we open up,
pain rushes in, hurled by another who knows nothing else,
who seizes the moment for themselves,
and we are lost to our sadness, hard or subtle though it be.
It is then that we learn what kind of human we are.
One unburnable, one who lives, one who matters and makes a difference,
or one who will be ruled by fear, died, and meaningless.
I put the trouble away, caring not that it is all akimbo.
Today I have no time for this.
Today I choose peace.
