In a dark room sits two chairs.
As I meet an old friend there,
On one I sat and held my breathe
Looking square in the face of death.
Death of dreams, and death of life,
Death of expectations flown to heights
Old and new, black and white
This old friend came into sight.
“You’re back again.” I slowly sigh
Knowing of their return and why.
Death looked dark and hope like fear
Of losing secret prayers held dear.
I don’t recall who introduced us then.
We have been friends since way back when.
For years and years I have run away.
Silently, slowly, he has returned each day
With the fear, wrath, and pain
Wrapping me up and pouring champagne.
Popping the cork and spreading the seed,
More fruitful than the fiercest weed.
From this wine I did partake
Slowly filling me with bone deep ache
For light to flood this narrow space
Save me now and win this race
Against a companion always here
Finding me, shaping me year after year.
When with fear will I make my peace,
Let the anger and striving cease?
Can it happen, is it feasible?
Can I make it something teachable
Can I soften fear with kindness
For myself and humankind is
Weary, oh so weary of meeting you there,
In this dark room, on that old tired chair.
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