Room for Regarding
A poem about things
Room for Regarding
I could slam my words down on your table
or I could place them there carefully
Regardless, they might rest there equally
Pulled by gravity, singular and stable.
You are not a table, however, unless you bend over backwards for someone,
But, you are not made of wood, steel, or screws,
Unless you are a pirate.
And, words slammed into ears are different than those warmly teased.
Regardless, my words are happier when I send them along with ease.
Is it true that a table can’t listen?
That the walls can’t chat?
I know the walls, they can listen.
I know they can talk back.
Regardless, would you care if they did?
What would they say?
If I yell loud enough, the table shakes.
It must resist its own demise.
What is fear if not resistance?
If I sing sweetly enough, the walls will dance to my noise.
What is dance if not joy?
Perhaps they are performing for someone, like a table.
Regardless, they do reflect on our whispers, our words, our warmth,
From our mouth to our ears.
So remember this, next time you shout forth;
The table hears,
And the walls will shout back.
beautiful string of dancing prose - i feel the walls bend their ears as I read it out loud here and thump on the table where I sit. how does your voice echo through the place where you are now? what energies circle and spiral there?
I wonder too, about the performance of tables vs that of walls...for what is an empty table but an invitation to sit down?
and what is a wall but a boundary, a support, a thing of holding, demarking, proclaiming, lifting things up? which is the more receptive of the two?
Ay, ay, ay your intentionality moves me deeply. I imagine it hurts. Thank you for returning to principles when it would be easier to harden. Thank you for bringing us back to them.
TENDEGRITY
Creatively, what might appear as a rough interaction becomes a poem. By carefully guarding principles connection is restored
the poem carries confidence to helps us all remember what matters.
This poem echoes in me it will guide me the next time I speak with my kids while feeling frustrated.
I would love to comment/share about
the second part of the California dream: provocative , stays ,stirs something , this thick longing in me like dulce de leche
Thank you for letting yourself be known and for including us in that tender space. I value it, and bowed to it .