Faulted

It isn’t often we can stand
directly on the line where what is and what was
are on either side, a whole day
of acceptance in speaking in the past tense
while eagerly throwing thoughtful wishes

Of the future to all
when we come into contact with this day
before the next year begins
where we sift through
how we have lived a year

Now past, it may take a while to get to the good parts
from the year before
but they are there and we can notice while looking around
for more we may wallow in what we must do
in the coming year better than the last

Or blame others
for our feelings and continue not to see past
those invisible walls of insecurities
where each new dig into the story places another brick
higher and more difficult to carry

Then the prescribed struggle to keep control
of what we see and what we wish for
inevitably, we are slightly cracked open and vulnerable
standing on the line, faulted
between who we are and who we see

Blinded by the light and afraid of the darkness
how can we trust
this moment these feelings
when they feel like anchors on our feet
not allowing us to move

Past to keep up with the clock ticking on, what if
we just closed our eyes
noticing where we are without our sight
how much hope is weighted down
by our should list and expected untruths, what if

We give ourselves permission to refrain from saying “if only”
and instead latch on to our solid truth, uniquely
would we fall or float
unbalanced by the weightlessness of simplicity
letting go eventually

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3 comments

  1. This poem, so beautifully tied to the metaphor of the rocks in the photograph, is a perfect companion piece to Messy, which I just read. It explores the same themes and, once again, encourages the spirit of redemption which is in all of us. I was particularly struck by “faulted
    between who we are and who we see.” I hope in the new year both of us will more truly see and accept who we are.

    1. Me too, Janet. I love that line…and it makes me sad at the same time. It surprised me. As I think you know, I write these poems all at once with no breaks in thought or line. And then when I find a stopping point, I start breaking it apart. When this line broke, I paused for a long while contemplating it and I’ve wondered about it ever since. What a beautiful hope for the both of us, let’s spread that lovely message wide this year, together!

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