On a swiftly tilting planet,
Upon a hotly-contested landmass
Where wind whips and water flows,
And sun bakes and cold aches,
In a room that is lonely,
Whirls a forcefield built of best intentions
Within which you sit,
And inside the deadbolted cage of your ribs,
Is a tiny sealed pine box,
And, in that, is a rubber band ball
Wrapped around a misshapen ice-globe,
The center of which is your frozen brittle heart.
How about you let down your guard?
How about you stop resisting what is?
How about you stop walling off?
Wasn’t it you who once spoke the truth
That clawed from behind sealed lips?
Focused on the free fall at the moment of letting go,
Rather than the agony immediately preceding it?
When was the last time you scared yourself?
Stepped into the light and up to the mic?
Set your cute shtick aside?
When was the last time you decided
To place your integrity before your pride?
You can operate this robot from within for a little bit longer,
Keep on slogging until you’ve lost it.
But aren’t you exhausted?
When was the last time you scared yourself?
You’re in your suit of armor.
In terms of efficacy, it’s amazing.
You can ride in, guns ablazing.
It’s so easy to be brazen
About the parts that you can face and
Then stay frozen
In a defensive pose when
You think you already know how the story goes, but
It’s infinitely trickier
To listen to the little whispering
Of your most intimate mystery:
The deepest weakness
That drives your sleepless nights.
The wanting that haunts.
The throb of your tell-tale heart,
Abused and neglected,
Atrophied in its little prison,
But still bleeding,
Still beating,
Unwilling to give up on you.
Wanting to thaw,
To plump up with lifeblood,
To squeeze lusciously,
Repeatedly,
Unendingly,
Wanting to sing.
So, when was the last time you scared yourself?
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Photo: Spotlights Mic Blurred Morgan by Paul Waite
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