(Alternative Title: On Receiving an Angry 'Dear Jane')
"I wish you well"; An opposite subtext and cold knife
cutting away pieces of resolve, and inner strength;
cutting, slashing away pieces of me.
An ending.
polite.
distant.
empty.
cold.
The energy to project the positive 'can do' in all other endeavors...
is seriously missing.
Only in this moment. ....
How long? This moment.
I am trying.
all, everything, nothing.
So much else to focus upon, to do.
Need to do? Do I need to do?
It springs forth from the depths.
And a why do I need to do, now comes to mind.
But no inner reserves spring forth.
And no enlightenment is forthcoming.
No answer to the desire to curl up and escape this place...
this place that I created ..
this place that I fell and feel pushed into...
unwilling, unexpected, unwanted.
And no thing to move in another direction sticks for long..
And a part of me wants to scold the part that can't move out of this moment.
It is not useful to scold a part of oneself.
It has no function.
I know, I know...
until conscious thought follows actions, It only takes repeating- to simply do.
Be, but not examine.
Focus on other, anything, forward, up, out, around, diversion, distraction,
hope elsewhere, look elsewhere.
no hope, no need. No backward glances. No examination.
Raw, doesn't have to be examined this moment.
Do. Be. Make the motions. The mind will follow.
Later examine that knife and those bruises
and those slash marks into deep recesses of self.
Ah, but the little me voice says,
injury needs examination right now.
All animals lick their wounds.
(edited 1/14/04, also 1/15/04)
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