Juggle Not

by sheketechad

Audio Recording Here

I was busy juggling all of the expectations

So I didn’t see what there was to see

Or where I was going

But only where I thought you thought I should be going

 

My traveling clothes were always ready

For whatever you could envision

“I’m there” I’d cry excitedly and off we’d go

To someplace foreign and exotic designed by your mind.

 

And when our roads parted with mortality

Having the last laugh, I was lost

Dropped in a desert of emotional minefields

Littered with would, should, could and what if’s.

 

Suddenly I was traveling for one and the clothes

I used to travel in did not fit

Felt out of place, stained with the love past

Tattooed on me as a reflection, places I’ve been but cannot go again.

 

I never have been good with directions, I can only remember

Sun rises in the East and sets in the West

Your frustration over that has become my own frustration

Of trying to figure out where to be so I can feel the sun come up again

 

Now there are only my expectations to juggle

And I find them more ungainly than yours

Because I have to look at them, own them and cannot blame

Anyone else but me.

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2 Comments to “Juggle Not”

  1. Beautifully painful self-reflection: simply giving a voice to grief we mark a place on the horizon by which we can triangulate our position when the sun comes out again . . . It’s an old sailor’s trick . . .

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