Touche!

What was important then

empties into bleakness as we relax now,

savoring moments inside skin;

dropping defenses if we are lucky,

losing the act if we are smart

so that others may access our heart.

 

What is it about the young,

pushing against, away –

only to discover those crowded to perimeters

are needed most in times of self loathing;

of grief and trembling and fear?

Culture to culture, we are the same –

running yellow under the surface where,

like animals, we strike out and retreat,

licking perceived wounds.

 

Clouds part and shift, planets repel and attract,

universes expand and implode

while the smallness of human drama continues

thrusting and parrying; hunching

into a sea of weakness inside bodies constructed

too frailly for posturing emotions.