An exercise in kindness

It isn't very difficult to see why
You are the way you are
The plates underneath you
 Shifted and shrunk
Standing becomes difficult on
 Shaky ground and shifting plates
It is not a wonder why,
 But why not.

 The pillars of support
 Hold nothing but themselves
Pillars without a weight to bear
Are not pillars at all
 It's not a question of how,
 but how not

 Mortar and concrete crumble
Held together by little more than blood
Concrete doesn't harden without the presence of
 Water, thinner than blood
Motar isn't binding if it isn't held at all
 It's not a question of who
But who didn't

 It isn't very difficult to see why
You are the way you are
No ground, no pillars, no binding mortar,
 Yet all the weight to bear,
 Be kind to yourself because it isn't where you came from
 its what you can come from

Marked Man

 You've marked your body with lies
Covered it in misrepresentations
 Inked it in and stated it out loud
Yet your voice repeats it with certainty
A statement with insight and meaning
Ignorance and blindness keep you from
 Reading the printed words
Your eyes see not the lies in the mirror
Nor the statement you are making
You create a space in which
 Harm is inevitable

Wish I could

Wish I could

Let it go
Let it take over
Let it be all I need
Let it be everything and more

Let it grow
Let it develop into more
Let it creep into the dark corners
Let it shed light on the spaces to far for light to reach

Let it be
Let it have its space
Let it fill out the space that it will
Let it make space within the crowd and hollows

Let it be real

Hope

My hope


It’s here
Just below the surface
Waiting for the thaw
The release of all this
Shallow water
From the dam inside my head
Built up anxieties
And raging currents
Mellow and not at all what you’d think
It’s not what I expected
Not what I was looking for
Now it’s crashing down on me
Rushing forward, determined
Smashing the still closed gates
Violent and unrelenting
The pounding of it suggests its power
Overwhelming and consuming
The take over, the rushing tumbling
Weight of its rage
The thrill of being pulled from the edge
Into deeper waters, dark and endless,

Our wall

Our Wall

I’m on the other side of your wall
But this wall, this side of the wall
Was built by me
I didn’t work to tear your stones down
Instead I reinforced them with mortar of my own
One stone to start
Then another
Now we are forever
On either side of this wall
Each of you and I, in shadows
The wall too high to climb,
Too thick to knock down
I wish to climb the wall, to walk the line
To look down to each side and
See no ignorance, no further stones

But here I stand moments later
Your side higher and mine
Abandoned.

Truth

My inconvenient truth


As I sat and listened
The truth came
Plain and without sound and
Took a seat right behind the
Left side of my head
There it sat and motioned towards
The exit sign

Not an escape
Truth said
Just true

I sat and let truth come
He came and sat next to me and
Delivered the news in a manner
All calm and professional
Not a note of humor
Just the truth behind the wisdom of
The voice in my head

Not wrong
Truth said
Just true

I stood and let truth slide away
Tried to walk away
The problem with truth, he admitted
It’s never anything more and yet never less
Than everything for today and this moment
Once its there its there
Its just true

My great grandfather

When I was young I was exceptionally privileged to have my great grandparents living and to be close enough to them to see them practically every weekend. My great grandfather was an exceptionally brilliant man. He suffered greatly for it in his lifetime though, much guilt and shame for him was the price of his high intelligence. He was not allowed to go to war as he was the only one who could fix all the things worth fixing back home. SO all the other men went to war and he was left to fix all the things the woman used that broke. He was horribly shamed by this and could never quite forgive himself for being who he was and being put in a position that was lesser. I know that the reason why they kept him here was so that work could get done and that he was absolutely the best man for the job. He could have been lost in the war and then the world would not have some of the things it has.

But he told me something once that has stuck with me. It reverberates in my head and fills my thoughts. I use it as motivation and it fuels my drive.

I can't remember when he said it or where... it was most likely in his garden and I was probably not more than ten, it was after he gave me my first medical textbook but before I had firmly accepted medicine or research as a calling.

He said it in a way that was more wise and honest than I have ever been told another thing. He was quiet and soft and commanding. He knew the truth behind what he was about to say and he was going to give me the best gift he could by saying the words.

The weight of the sentence was not lost on him and he was going to save me from myself right then and there. He was going to give to me what someone had not given to him. He was going to make it ok for me to be just like him.... make it ok to be smart and to be different. Somehow these words were going to make everything what it should have been, and I knew it. I was quiet and waited so patiently for what seemed like forever.

"you owe the world for what it has given you, rarely do people have the chance to do something great beyond what they will ever know and you will never fully understand it but you owe it to the world to do it."

Believe me these words have saved me a million times over. They save me from feeling as left out of the loop as I probably am, they let me off the hook when I feel as though people are too difficult to deal with because of their lack of understanding, they pick me up off the floor when i feel as though I can't give anymore, they fuel my drive and fan the fire under me when I am caught in a rut like I am now. Mostly, they smooth over the technicalities of writing out all the pieces that my brain flips over so quickly and refuses to slow down for so that i can type out the words. They give me patience and resilience.

I miss him nearly on a daily basis. Perhaps if he was here I could have more quietness than I presently do. Perhaps I wouldn't have so many questions to ask about how to make it go faster or to slow myself down. I would maybe not feel so alone some days, there would still be days but he'd be there for me. They'd pass quicker and I'd be better than I am because of it. I'd feel less of a need to tell everyone about and mark each little success because he would be patient and only want to know when it was all done and I would be able to let go of this urgency and sense of doom that somehow it won't get done.

Maybe too I could tell him that he owed something to the world and he had done it. Not only had he done what he owed to the world but he had allowed me to do what I needed to too. I am an agnostic... there is not enough proof for me either way... but if he could hear me or I could see him once again.... "thank you" would never be enough.