Trying to make sense
Of a life in upheaval
Is like trying to
Hear a conversation between ants
You can see them, sure
See that they’re conversating
Their little antennae move
And they hustle forward with purpose
But what they said?
It’s non-sensical.
Problems are like this too
They appear, but don’t make sense
And decisions must be rushed toward
with all the purpose
of an ant on a mission
but none of the understanding.
Mild, summer evenings
Bring bubbles of joy and chaos
That float like pink clouds
Across dying grass
In a rush we talk over
One another
Not because we’re not listening
But because we’re trying
To steal extra minutes
From a waning day
Who’s jewel bright light filters through fluttering green leaves
“Hurry,” it whispers. “The day will soon sleep.”
So we spill our stories
Incomplete as the broken light
Their shards reflecting our smiles.
Sometimes I feel like
I’m a placeholder for others
Because of me
Their world stays in tact.
They’re allowed to grow, and be
While I remain fixed.
Always straggling behind
In the shadow of their success.
It’s a strange thing
To share your kids with others
But…that’s what divorce is
Two people now split
Learning to share their beloveds
It’s not an easy thing
Blended families are hard
I’ve had to share with two women
(But that’s another story)
And…it’s a strange thing
Also a great one, and I’ll tell you why
Sometimes we’re selfish
We think sharing love means diluting love
Of course it doesn’t
And isn’t it amazing
When so many people want the same thing?
To love
And be loved
By children?
Purple-pink neon
Kisses the clouds in the sky
Blessings from the sun
Kids pile in the car
Older now. Wiser, taller
But they still pile in
With sleep clinging to their eyes
We share the morning
Together.
Hipstory 