The overfed ego,

unable to squeeze in

enough room for others,

risks dying of loneliness

as much as its counterpart,

the ego malnourished, bereft,

surrounded by clients, not friends—

with a view of what it means to be

who they really are,

the prescription an artist—

not a butcher or candlestick maker—

might supply, if applied to

by a weary soul, ready to give up

on the fairy tale.

the snares on the line are many and

rarely if ever humane—

if you fall into one, do not pause

to negotiate, or tell yourself the story

(over and over)

why someone might have set this trap

in the first place, this is not the time

to put yourself in anyone

else’s shoes; free yourself

run

A complicated emotion can serve good ends and bad,

reveal the truth of who we are and what

we must have to go on, declare

our refusal to surrender,

even signal our strength, passion

for life, or

it can crowd the space between us

until no one can think straight, only react,

fight back, turning a small thing

into an end-of-the-world scenario.

We’re in a courtyard moment

where the truth is on trial,

as it so often is

when people feel threatened

one way or another, pressured

to perform

for or against more quietly held

beliefs, the ones that bring

them peace to be at home

in their own spiritual skin.

as time grows short, and shadows long

love must be seen, made plain

to win the day, uphold the banner of God, high

over the field, the grain now waving

at the feet of the coming

harvesters, so late

it seems…