Bristol- Croyton, UK
Where’s the sense of belonging?
The part where I fit in?
Could I be making this all up?
Casting myself apart by means of old behavior
An old behavior that I’ve never allowed to grow old
A rowboat tied behind the bus, dragged bouncing along the motorway
With it’s own dark black cloud overhead
The ticket written in my own hand
What is at play here?
The holder of a checklist, every box ticked
Get out, get out, get out
The job, the tour, the life, my head?
Competence and bright spots only confuse me
I should be writing prayers, capturing the lessons
Of God, growing , learning, feeling joy
Laughing, crying, helping others, living, moving
My heart strong and able
Only see shadows
What have I become?
I think it is a valid question
I’ve come so far with the spirit
Is it going to waste or am I missing the point?
I must hold some truths evident:
I am not my job;
Never work for your heroes;
Turn to self and you get what you pay for;
Look for differences and you’ll feel alone;
Try to survive and you’ll only survive;
Respect yourself or be unable to respect anything.
I need a transfusion of loving kindness
And the willingness to be of service, not just to serve
To stroke and be stroked
I’m beginning to hear the voices of the ones
Who can’t say it enough
“Happiness is an inside job”
Now I just feel selfish and small
Perhaps this exercise has helped
Tomorrow is another chance to try again
Not with extremes, but with balance and love
Gratitude not compliance
With a heart and not a tongue.