F I R E P L A C E
Fireplace
11/1/17
11/7/17
My being is a fireplace
That welcomes those
Struggling in the cold.
It goes like this:
“I’m having a bad day.”
“Come inside, warm yourself up.”
They must just not be aware
That eventually there will be nothing
Left for me to burn.
I am a slave to their emotions.
I’m constantly pushed down to my knees,
Forced to surrender to everyone else’s needs
But my own.
In a state of binding that I so willingly allowed.
I recognize when other people
Are out in the cold
So much that I’ve left myself
To freeze to death.
I’ve learned that my compassion is not a gift
Except to those in my presence.
~
There’s a beautiful cabin
On top of a snowy hill.
It’s clearly inhabited, with
Happy voices filling the atmosphere.
Everyone looks warm.
Nobody would suspect the owner
Of the cabin to be buried
Ten feet under snow.
Left to face the blizzard of her own mind,
Disregarded.
Snowflakes delicately coat my eyelashes.
My lips are stained blue and purple.
My skin seems to blend in with
The snow piling on top of me.
I no longer have the radiance
That attracts those in search
Of a listening ear.
The housekeeper comes once a week
And asks “How does that make you feel?”
The guests liter the cabin,
And leave behind footprints from
Facing their own blizzards.
Even the housekeeper
Is incapable of erasing them.
When will I realize
It’s not my duty to clean them up.
It’s never the actual being people worry about.
It’s the daily “How are you?”
The “I’m here if you need anything.”
It’s the dancing flame healing around the clock.
Would I be the selfish one
If all the sudden,
My services stopped?
