Out you ventured, high-held head, frolicking into the over-stuffed bed,
Leaping into paradise waving arms, breaking ice,
Always busy initiating, helping out, consolidating,
then one day you noticed an ache or two, the carpet was shaking under you
But on you soldiered, making waves, undergoing all the ways
responsibility crushed and pressed, Instead of light, you felt oppressed,
contorting torso, arms and legs accommodating deadline plagues.
Where was laughter now, you asked, disappeared, it just collapsed,
Although you tried to find those ones who’d join you in creating puns,
But everyone was just like you, noses to grindstone with faces blue,
The spring had fallen from your step, your days jarred on with little pep,
You, the queen of play and fun, became just like everyone,
Buried under mires of jobs, checking off chores and tasks in gobs,
And when you came to speak of joy, you felt obscene as a Barbie toy,
Knowing how you wanted to be and had been before,
But bureaucracy crept up and slammed that door,
Messages came from wise, dear friends, You’re fragile dear, replace your ends,
Protecting self you’ve lost your zest, Change must occur to conjure the best
of all you know and expect and want, Stop stewing over the size of a font.
Get off that chair and get into the ways you prefer to spend these sacred days,
Be pleased, of course, for the job you’ve done, You’ve mustered yourself to become one
with this land (*Australia) that reached out to hold you here, It’s not been fast, more than a year.
Without a doubt Oz called, and you came knowing you must your heart’s voice claim,
You’d learned in recent years to trust,
But soon forgot as into the fray you scrambled and raced in order to stay.
It’s a universal dilemma, How do we transcend
these hooks and bolts that life does send?
We hold up barely and understand why those around us thrash and cry,
We all so lose ourselves in chores and sorrow’s tears seep through our pores,
Our lusty, loving life soon lost as onto organizational waves we’re tossed,
Crumbling in a heap is what I want, to sit awhile, my fragility flaunt,
bask in the sun and read and walk, be held by a friend who doesn’t talk,
just hugs me close and whispers, “There, you’re OK now, I’m here, I care.”
To let someone see my weak-kneed self deflated as a doll on a shelf,
To rest a while and be embraced, in tenderness and loving graced,
It seems if only tears would fall somewhere I’d leave this trembling thrall,
To be held, to shudder into arms and know I set off no alarms,
Just acknowledged, patted and gently warmed by understanding others who, too,
have swarmed up heaven’s gate fearing they’d arrive too late.
What do I do now, I wonder, lest the juggernaut fall asunder?
Nothing needed, just amble along remembering to sing my song,
Setting off beyond my frontiers, sloughing off the deadening years
of truncated boundaries and sideways looks with no time for falling into books,
No more brochures or computer stuff, Break away from that tedious fluff,
Tender-heartedly learning how to reclaim yourself for the continual Now,
No one else can offer help, Only you can raise yourself
without outside others or easy fixes, No one but you to give the nixes,
You’ll learn how others who live alone nourish themselves all on their own,
Who, despite the lack of ready resources, manage to muster inner forces,
You’ll find your way, It’s the path you chose,
Let heaven’s plan bring you to repose
If through people, you can know they’ll come, or find a cat or anyone
to hold and nurture in your heart, For coming home, it’s the place to start.
© Barbara Brewster, Melbourne, March, 1998
