you were never in the military

The air was brisk and brittle that morning,

Frozen by news that came without warning,

We learned that six months can come all too quick

And a physician’s mouth can make you sick--

Too little time for all the plans we’d made,

But you wore the pin from that hand grenade

That the doctor pulled like a purple heart

You said each day was a fight to the death

In a war where lungs were stealing your breath

Your heartbeats were gunshots, less than precise

Munitions were low, but they would suffice

The enemy, slaying myriads ‘round

Was the lack of will to rise from the ground

And take one more step into the unknown

So when that fateful day came upon us

Unprepared for the end of this battle

We swore we’d contend in your honor

I’m sorry that we’re all such poor soldiers

She Who Must Be Loved

You were so young when he came for you--

Too young to understand what darkness meant;

You thought your nightlight and teddy bear were all the army you needed to guard you while you slept.

And though I was fire by night and cloud by day, ready to bring you to promise,

you chose exile.

But child, your story was yet to be sung.

He taught you what it was to quake

To sit so still you couldn’t shake your weary soul awake

Feet beating faster than your heart drew near, drawing fear from every pore

Muscles tightened, you bolted up like lightening shooting the sky,

Such wide eyes

My, what sharp claws he had.

Hands around your neck,

They were cold enough to burn through your very skin

and to ignite the spark of terror, the silent gunman triggering every fire alarm in the house

He showed you fear so sharp it made breaths look like needles

Don’t take one

Hold still, this is going to hurt.

Red like your blood,

White like your innocence, that sly fox wove his coat to look like mine

But he is not of Me. I am not of him. His den was deep, deep within the earth

And looking for new birth, you began to dig. He had a plan for you,

To travel

But your journey was to Me

Further up and further in,

he called you, oh so sweetly toward the depths that lay beneath.

By firelight you saw one night that vixen’s vile teeth. His smile, still so charming,

‘til you looked beneath the fur and glimpsed the claws you knew so well.

Cold razors.

They wouldn’t hold you again.

Eyes now open, ears to hear,

I called you—follow. My world is upside down, so dig as you may,

the farther you run, the closer you’ll find yourself. Reach down one last time,

Push away the earth to find me. Fingers reaching heavenward like roots,

Or like leaves;

Grow child, climb.

Arms strong from tunneling,

Pull yourself up onto emerald fields and be free, breathe.

Dance like a kit in the grass. You are safe here. Behold, I make all things new.

Look up toward the sky. Open wide. I will fish out all of the dark in you.

Cast it away.

You are new, daughter of light.

So follow, beautiful one. There is a world to see and much work to be done.

Planted

Born into a world of death

Swift incision in my chest

Doctor placed within my heart

A seed to break my ribs apart

lift

50 feet of string,

darting and diving

inhaling clouds like flame eats fire

ever leaving,

ever drawing near

i wish i could see things the way you do

for one minute

your chest is proud and lungs are full

unafraid of the gusts that eddy this falling leaf

hold your key tight,

don’t blink when the lightening strikes

i’ll learn from you yet, kite

i’ll learn from you yet

The River

Standing in the river,

Ears tuned to the sound of silence,

She waits

For someone to deliver her broken ribs

From breathing the lies of an urban world

Her hair is a wheat-field,

Caressed by autumn’s whispering

She stares,

Knowing that the heron has found the freedom

To leave all that it has known for new winds

Tattered clothes, no makeup,

Looking down as she is washed clean

She hopes.

The great blue pushing her legs, inviting her

Into cold embrace and faithful friendship

Eyes closed, her heart beats still.

Felled like a beautiful willow,

She yields.

Eyes open to see the swift, sweet water

Engulf her wholly, heavy and holy

  

   

    

     

      

       

She breathes.

Porcupine Theory—The Hedgehog’s Dilemma

I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, and I’ve wanted to write on it for a while, so this is what came out:

I want to be close to you. Understand that. I don’t know why, but I long for closeness. It’s just a part of what I am. It’s me. I miss you. I miss that bond. Either that or I’m still waiting for it. I want to spend time with you and get to know you and listen to you. I have to be conscious of not smothering people. That's just how I'm made.

Freud made this theory popular, though it originally came from Arthur Schopenhauer. This is the Hedgehog’s Dilemma: a group of hedgehogs prepare as winter approaches. The colder it gets, the closer they move together. They desire both warmth and community—but this comes at a great cost. You see, the nearer they get, the more likely it is that mutual harm will come upon them. They’re covered in quills, and someone is bound to get stabbed at some point. So here’s the question: stay safe and sacrifice warmth and community, or take these things and inevitably get hurt.

I know the answer to this question immediately. Take warmth and community and endure the pain. The hurt can be dealt with. It’s worth the ache. Unfortunately, I don’t get to make this decision for everyone. To many, it’s not worth it. This, my friends, I cannot understand. I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t it be worth it? Cognitively, I realize that my self-worth isn’t based on the affirmation I receive when someone is willing to brave the slings and arrows of outrageous friendship, but I still feel hurt when someone doesn’t find it worth the fight. I can’t comprehend why I would fight for it and they wouldn’t. Maybe it’s just because I’m a little boy at heart, but I’m an idealist.

And it is this very idealism that I’m wrestling with. A dear friend of mine told me that men and women can’t be friends. Why not? It doesn’t make sense. I trust her, and I believe she has wise judgment, but I still don’t understand. She says that it’s not feasible to carry on platonic relationships with the ever-looming likelihood of marriage. Perhaps becoming a spouse in the only way to disarm those quills. But I’ve always been friends with girls. In fact, I generally get along with them better than with most men; so as you can imagine, this has been a rude awakening. Why doesn’t it work? So what if feelings develop? Why can’t the individuals just ignore them and sacrifice them for the sake of the friendship? Now I know that 99% of the time this doesn’t work, but why can’t I be the 1% that defies the odds? She told me that (regarding the individual whom she and I were speaking of) though I may be in that 1%, she may not be. Frustration ensues. I can’t change her. I realize that. Maybe it’s not worth it to her. But why not? What did I do? What didn’t I do? That’s where it all escapes me.

So herein lies my dilemma: do I fight for an ideal that I think is right and get destroyed every time because it is unrealistic, or do I accept the inevitable and just try to learn to be okay with what is practically a reality? I don’t know. I want to fight and struggle and labor for this ideal, but maybe that is just foolish youth. Then again, what do I sacrifice when I simply lay down and accept what I find absurd?

I never put much stock in personality tests until I took a Myers Briggs. I started to look at what it meant to be an INFJ. It summed me up perfectly. It described my personality type as an empath, one who prizes loyalty with individuals over having great deals of friends or being in positions of controlling relationships. I just want to be there with you, to help you.

So know this: I’m going to hurt you. I’m sorry. It isn’t my intention. I just want to be close to you. I want to do life with you. This ends without me coming to any sort of conclusion. I still don’t know how to handle the dilemma. I can’t change you—but I don’t really want to; I just want to sit with you.