be love

(poem i wrote after a particularly crazy afternoon with the little kiddos... closest i've been to screaming since i've been here...)


How do I live as a poem
with mass chaos, screeching children
in constant pursuit of finding my Achilles heel?
How do I live as a poem
when the poem sometimes bursts without warning
into a tempest of unknown origins?
How do I teach love
when constantly bombarded by madness and whispers?

I put forward step after step, balancing timidly on a thin line of faith.
My deepest breaths halted by cut after cut…
Do they even know it hurts?
Or are they so used to being hurt themselves, of the injustice of everyday life
that my pain is meaningless?

The boundary between hate and love, pain and triumph, despair and highest hopes
runs rampantly criss-cross across every moment of every day.
I desperately desire to put forth love,
but sometimes in loving them I feel as if I am discarding a love and care of my self.

I’m stifled in my own selfish ways.

My poem cannot be only about one person, only about love, and faith, and hope…
For poems must also contain the darkest corners of this world-
and to experience these I must know, to full depths,
the amount of pain people are capable of causing each other.
Needless pain through thoughtless words and defiant actions.

Poems do not only care for words,
they require constant tender movement through each line.
Each stanza requires a balancing act,
and faith in the dark corners
where a different and divine life blossoms.
I can learn to love myself deeper in these shadows.

Then I will not need to teach love,
I will be love.