With Whit
How does someone living among Eskimos find themselves drawn to the heat?
An ill-kindred with dangerous flames
Yearning for change but conflicted with the want for the like.
What makes a person climb down from Everest into the muck of solid ground? Why don’t heart and mind coincide and why most the disillusion that they ever could?
It seems, love is not meant for the emotionally inept
In Bruges, the nurse finds herself begging the crippled man to walk
Knowing there is a desire for him to, too late, acknowledging he will not walk for her
She had not yet shed enough tears nor had enough sleepless nights
Instead, treaded the journey aloft a rainbow with the miniscule hope for a pot of gold
Not sure how far the road would take her
Not sure what waits at the end
Often the glimpse of what may be blinds her to the increasing probability of empty dividends
So she grew accustomed to the pangs of his rejection and immediately gratified by scabs of his bedtime affections
Too often, like her, intellectual fools try to make sense of love
Drawing lines and then conclusions about questions that were never asked
Hearing with their eyes, too daft to listen with their hearts
Closing doors while ignoring windows
And allowing fear to encapsulate them under the guise of self control
It appeared unhappiness had finally over stayed its welcome
And though she made the choice to render its eviction, she soon grew tired of the silence it left behind.
So she opened the door, as she had several times before, with followed promises of new regulations
And though seemingly devoid of naivety, she gave a little more of herself……for the very last time
Tirelessly, she tried to fit circles in squares
Plowing on unfertile land, still, planting seeds of love
Being ignored and taken for granted
Now dim-witted and without self control
And though he had not tried to walk and though the doors had so often been closed
It had not been ‘til she saw her heart breaking that she finally decided to let go……that she finally decided to try