First Signs

Subtle shifts
Back to the right kind of pain
Finally noticing the first word
In the term human frailty
Switch the second to shortcoming
Or potential
The first word is the mystery, the adjective
The one that lacks perfection and adds character

As the dark weight breaks
And other familiar notions visit
Human explains both the broken balance and the fallacy
How could anything be organic when such a noble ego,
The silent poet, who feels and never speaks
Could be the only reason a marriage, a family, a life to be failing

Fragile ego
Stubborn that it could be the body
Not granting the brain its food
Just as the long scar on my chest
Reminds me of how the pipes didn’t give the heart
The blood to pump and spread
Throughout this body that somehow keeps working
Despite the lazy mind that watches, worrying

So the time for the brilliant brain
To be a patient passenger
Is here, again not allowed to insist
On terminal uniqueness
To trust direction from outside, unbiased
And wait for the flowers of spring.