I’m not laughing anymore
I do what I have to do
To pay, expend, and give
I slip on moss fallen trees
Across my path
My hopes don’t go up anymore
I use hope like a sponge
To clean my house with
I win when I bet on the horse
Stuck in the gate
I can’t remember when I last danced
As if I take up too much space when I do
I find nothing funny
Buried under the freeway
Luck is when I catch a sunset
Not when the closest person standing next to me
Leaves my shoulders alone
Surprizes are shocks and startles
Things are shitty
Because they can be
My folly, my merit
I can’t laugh anymore
Seasons of Mourning. Season after season….
A dark Summer
A burnt Autumn
A literal Winter
A starved Spring
A gray Summer
A barren Autumn
A punishing Winter
A colorless Spring
A windy Summer
A dry Autumn
A slumbering Winter
A green Spring
A weathered Summer
A speckled Autumn
A quiet Winter
A purple Spring
A clear sky Summer
A storybook Autumn
A sculpture Winter
A kaleidoscopes Spring
A deep Summer…
The Season Cycle is Earth’s clock. Healing is on Earth’s terms. Years may pass before a day feels ordinary and mundane. A small victory is not noticing a regular schedule. With every season functioning will improve. But it takes season after season after season….
It’s The Inside. It’s the inside that counts.
“It’s the inside that counts” is a barren affirmation.
A person is not 2 people, nor 2 halves.
There is not an inside and an outside.
We are a whole package.
We market the inside when the outside is in question.
Or we sell our “curb appeal” over a dilapidated interior.
Nobody gets to cherry pick another person.
Nor should anyone sell themselves short.
We have as many varieties of our species as there are human beings.
Enhancements here, disadvantages there.
Opinions and judgments aren’t real.
When presenting oneself, proclaim, “It’s all or nothing!”
Something got under my skin. This is less of a poem and more of a rant.
IMAGE: ‘You Blew Me Away’ sculpture by Penny Hardy