The gift

What is your complexion
Mine is varied
But nearly always complex
Tell me you are engaged and show me your ring
And I feel genuine happiness for you
And genuine pain for myself
Simultaneously
And in this season of dying
For I have heard more than I care to know
Til I'm cold sweat, blue in the face, ready to pass out
Hold on...
I have also heard more engagements than I was ready to know
And through all my contradiction I feel hope
A sort of complex hope
Mixing with my darkness
A candle flame with black smoke
Curling my mind
Switching back and forth
Happy sad hope grounded
And that longing to be understood
Though words and actions make no sense
Actions better understood
They are the groundwork for what lies beneath
When words misunderstand or lie
"You were staring at me", she said
"No I wasn't", I replied
"Yes you were...and it creeps me out."
Was or wasn't, was or wasn't
Emotions a fleeting moment
That sometimes stay in reflection
A self contained reality
That bubbling anger
"They were wrong..."
"They won't admit..."
Its complexion
The contradiction of self
Raising its beautiful flame yet threatening to consume us
Reality and hope weave a fine chord
One to hang us, one to hold us up
But maybe that isn't the all of it
Maybe between the waiting and the doing
Contradiction and complexion
Weaves a length of beauty
Waiting to be understood
Perhaps waiting to be blessed
To be the gift.

Denis Streeter  5/22/13