My sensitive friend picks up
Signals from cell-towers,
Bits of words, torrents of social media conversation.
Sometimes it’s all too much.
She thinks they’re her own
Rhetoric and vitriol.
I want to tie her thought-balloon down,
To ground her the way others
Have grounded me,
So that we can grow down together,
So that her first touch of grey will reach the tip,
So that my laugh lines deepen into rivulets,
Pulling newly hewn wisdom into action–
Wait. Here comes a text message…
__________’s passed. She was sick for a long time.
__________’s husband passed. He was sick much shorter.
The memorial’s on Wednesday, hump day, a day to celebrate what’s done and what’s soon to be. I’ve realized I’m sewn into a sweater much larger than I thought
and someone’s taking it all out, knit, purl and all.
Meanwhile, the pendulum swings
Listen, the goal is not that one triumphs over the other
But that none triumphs over the all.