from the depths of my soul
from the gateways of my being
I shudder with anger
distilling through me
its not purely the behaviour that perturbs
it’s the repeat offending that I know will remain
present and untoward
some will never change
this I hold true
pity me for believing:
I am a true fool.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Words unfold upon my screen, toppling, clamouring over themselves, fighting to be seen.
I’m important,
no, my message is of the utmost importance,
let me be heard,
while the most relevant one relaxes away, folded arms.
Its words are the most likely to go unnoticed; its is the voice of reason, the truth you don’t want to see, but it lingers, to the side, presence important, but not impinging. Just there, whiling away time, until you become most aware.
It is the truth that, once realised, you wish to deny, for accepting it, and following through with action will only lead to temporary suffering, and really, who wants this now? Who needs pain, even if it only lasts for a version of ‘now’? But what I must come to terms with, is that the behaviours I’m experiencing, being exposed to, are exceedingly on repeat, with only mere weeks of interlude. The same insistent melody cranking in strange intonations that ultimately are the same cacophony. And can I live with this pattern my entire life, should I endure the same tired push?
The Message smirks at me from the side, its curled upper lip making me uncomfortable, wanting to run and hide, for if I squirm away now, I can ignore the obvious path ahead, and I won’t need to encounter it. I can deal with excuses, revelations away from the Message’s thread. Then I won’t need to lie in bed pondering how the future will be, if I take this step, make this step, because I haven’t been able to cease that cacophony. The melody, discordant though relevant, which made me feel good, but in the end, was only for another end to be achieved.
And I know this, knew this, always can see, but receive with casual measures, never openly giving in return because, I don’t play games of affection, with insistent interjection, impinging on one’s direction, I need to cease the received indelicate actions. Is it time to finally learn? That there is no improvement, no learning from my words. There is no ceasing of expectation, lingering there, the Message needs to be heard. I pull my socks high, place my feet into my boots, stridently meet the Message, face its obvious truths. I lean in to one side, allow it to whisper its keen observations. With pride, it straightens its back, chest thrown forward, it has been heard, has been acknowledged, that is a fact. My expression, stunned, I have been made aware of what to do. Whether I choose to use its knowledge or not, is up to me to choose…
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image source
I can attempt to suggest,
not forcefully,
but subtly,
allowing another to view
from a different perspective.
To take into account
other angles of a problem
and what can be
done to cure what is
ailing them.
If not, altered alleviation
can be key
to disallowing inner frustrations,
potential travesty,
but only if the other
is open –
I only wish to promote
self-healing.
Unlocking those doors,
breaking down those walls,
allowing assistance in,
I’m more than willing to listen,
but hark,
let me explain another position,
there’s more than one way
to describe Life’s unwanted conditions.
I can extend my care,
I wish to be supportive
and understand
the stressors,
have them heard,
felt, shared,
but in the end
I hope we can find
a positive direction,
not end up with us
travelling in an argumentative direction.
It’s important,
I hope it’s known,
that I do want,
wish to be here
and attend,
but together let’s
work at solving
the problem
with positivity,
we can make a change of that
poorly dealt hand.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Everton Vila on Unsplash
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