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The Poacher

Looking down at my
horribly painted toe nails
I am filled with dread
for no apparent reason.

Panicked I try to hold
onto the minutes.

I cant, but trying makes
a kind of sense that comforts.

We all have modes of being,
cycles, and it is such a gift
to be aware of our own.

I tend to universalize.
For better or worse
I see the world and
her people as a whole.

Some instincts cannot be tamed.

I read another’s words and suddenly
I feel an urge to protect what’s mine.
To defend against those who would
poach whatever morsels they can
manage.

But, just as suddenly,
the urge passes and I
realize he is no threat.

All partnerships have their ups
and downs, but there is a symmetry
to my chaos which I hope
can be seen and
appreciated.

A Blessing

When I was young
a wise man told me
that I would be blessed
to see things as they
truly are.
 
It came upon me late in life
but is quite surely a blessing.
 
Of course futures are still
unknown, but I have found
myself less susceptible
to lies, particularly my own.
 
I have been undervalued,
as have we all, but there are
worse things, and I guess it has
been a motivator too, and anyway
no one is as perfect as
they want to be.
 
At a certain point I suppose
faith becomes ridiculous
but still there are nights
when I lie in bed
and pray in the dark
and quiet. Pray with
only the cats and the
coyotes awake to keep
me company.
 
I hope at least they hear me.
 
We all have a slight attachment
to suffering, which is only as
useful as we allow it to be.