Busy day, busy mind;

Your call breaks through the stress;

I prep for it to stir up more.

But, your voice doesn’t wield the 

Usual, subtle razors of critique;

Bafflingly, it carries actual kindness,

Something occasionally offered, but 

Nothing I ever dare to out-and-out  


I long to embrace it,

Declare it authentic.

Yet, it’s all too much like

Stepping out on a familiar precipice;

Scenery’s always so similar-

Pretty promises swirling round,

A delight to see, but a bit 

Precarious when your view zooms in 

On the distant ground.

Been here a thousand and one times,

After all, 

And still find it no place to 

Comfortably or safely recline…

And I find myself flinging my forever 

Questions once more on the line:

When does the footing slip?

When will the ledge give way?

I know this tranquility easily rips.

Just want to know what moment?

What hour?

What day?

Don’t want paranoia to paralyze,

Want to take the gifts that come.

Yet, don’t want to entirely surrender 

My watchful eye;

Not quite ready to risk a heart’s 


Not when I only get one.

So…a smile into the phone with hope,

But, a firm hold on the protections 

That help me cope.

I know mistakes may very well be 

Just down the road;

We are all only frail, truth be known.

But, as I grow into this, my 

Happy, protective abode,

I find the strength to finally arrive

Decidely into my own…