When you tread lightly to the curb;
Turn back and look for the soft spot in the grass.
You have arrived.
When you lay your head upon a perfect pillow;
Cradle your neck in firm recesses of comfort,
You are reassured.
When you fall to the ground in a hurry,
You realize your own shortcomings.
You are frail in the awakening of your fears;
Strong in the force of the impact.
You find yourself amuck in stranger mysteries,
Where you thought you once began...
Hopeful, wide-eyed and wary of the road never traveled.
You take a step back...
Into the abyss of uncharted territory.
You squint in the mist of lack of awareness;
You stretch, then flinch at the sight of where you are going.
Where you have been,
More daunting than a sleep from which you never awaken.
You love to remember.
You could barely keep it together.
You were on fire.
It was another first, but then it became your last.
It never does...last.
It is only in the moment.
When will we ever learn?
Perhaps we never do.
Not until it hurts.
The sting of the yellow jacket when we least expect its wings upon us.
Out of the corner of the eye...it waits.
Not for long.
Its bite, an ecstasy for one;
A sharp alarm for another;
A realization of what was.
No idea what it is.
Crushing blow of the mind over body emotions,
Screaming in the darkness of the day.
It hurts more in the sunshine, where there is no place to hide.
The shadows fade more quickly than the silhouette of our imagination.
Why is the sharp, precise prick of pain the most shocking of all?
The intrusive searing reality of a misstep,
Once taken; quickly regretted.
We gasp for a second.
Eyes glazed over in the moment,
Unexpected; unexpressed.
A pop in time, producing a tiny drop of blood,
Where pain worsens in the sight of so little...
Yet a speck more, might be excruciating,
At least for the time that now stands so still.
The quiet you can hear. Deafening.
What have you done?
It hurts so much and you know it will hang on like tree sap...
Not leaving any time soon.
It burns so slowly.
Deepening pain that reminds us of our helplessness,
Yet not so terrifying as to define our mortality.
If we let it.
~
Photo Credit: David Fokos Photography
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David Brin
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Comments
Nicely done though.....
.
Well done.
I've known pain that ". . . hurts so much
and . . . . . hang[s] on like tree sap"
that I'd I'd rather take it in one jab.
Hope it's all well under the bandaid.
♥R
Jon - You are!
ladyfarmerjed - oh no! Didn't want to be painful to read but we never know how words will effect the reader, let alone the writer. Thank you for hanging tough!
Jerry - so interesting you mention that movie and line...as if the denial of pain makes it not so. Invisible to some, painful visible to others, it is a steady flow that taunts and teases us through our daily journey. Thank you for your wonderful comment!
Fusun - "...I'd rather take it in one jab!" Ouch! You are stronger than I! Yet what is really under the gauze, if not all that ails us? Thanks for your thoughtful response.
And most of the time, totally clueless, I think "That's nice." and then go along on my way.
But sometimes, like here, with this, while I'm not sure what I'm understanding, it's the rhythm and the melancholy.. I may not understand well what you're saying, but I *feel* it. Maybe that's enough?
Poetry is different from prose, not just in form. Prose is a story, close to the writer's heart, speaking to many in so many ways. But poetry.. I think actually is the writer's heart, so that maybe we all can't understand what they're saying.. but we *can* feel it's beating.
Rated for Maybe that's enough :).
Macco - And I've never been stung by a yellow jacket or any other bee. It's the various unseen, unfelt, unrealized stings of a higher species that can inflict the deepest cuts of all. And then, quite triumphantly, we heal. Because we say so! Thanks for your great response!
Rated.
Scylla - Thank you very much for feeling the pain, as only you do. It is proof we are not only alive but that we truly understand the lining of our bliss.
Lezlie
The trick to me is to still embrace Life wide-eyed and without too much build up of the wary...or I'd stop trying new things, going new places...that balance of the middle way.
To have the finesse not to slash a paper cut of words or tone towards others when I think I am being light, now that would/will be a gift gratefully received.