My Story

I wait with the others, their troubles

tucked tight within them. 

We all hold close our coats of normal,

our means of putting that one foot

in front of the other, that one day

after this one day.

You turn the corner and I feel you before

I see you and as we greet I’m aware

of your casual assessment

of my sanity this day.

Inside your space I love the large windows

looking out to the trees, a shelter from it all.

I look to them first and the green feels like home

although I am far from it.

Here I can feel the edges round out,

my words landing soft.

Make no mistake, my mind still stumbles

but the pillows and the black chairs

keep it from running and

dragging the thick mud

coating its thirst for control.

Mocha walls and muted light,

a cave you have created.

Your talent beyond the molecular psyche.

Even the fountain I questioned

with its bubbling light, hums a velvety line,

“You are safe with me, within these walls.”

It is here I will let go of all that is in.

The whole of the knot, twisted and tight.

It is here, from the beginning

I will rip a piece, small yet significant,

and hand it broken to you.

This piece and the next piece I give

and you take.  Gentle in your hands

you see what I don’t, you hear what I can’t.

Together we sift and we weed,

with your craft and my need,

through what I have brought you,

the unraveled history called my story.

SPMc

5/2010