Restraint

Our lives expand
like the controlled
stretching of a rubber band
that snaps at the end—
and in between
our beginning and our end
when breath
is taken for granted
there is time
for music and art
and walks in the woods
with pleasant company—
and there are
the regular joys
like sweets and babies
and holiday parties—
even indulgences
that become secrets
to tell your best friend
after you’ve had
a glass or two of wine—
and who doesn’t have
a file of regrets
that have scratched
the shiny surface
of those accomplishments
we made?
Our measured risks
add up to the reputation
we have in our own little circles—
and I’m sure that mine
is sanguine in nature,
and that my vibe
belies my truth—
that I exist on a knife edge
between bravery and cowardice—
and I favor one over the other—
and no one really knows
how often I hold back
or how much—
and restraint is not
what I’ll be
remembered for—
though it should be.

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-11-17

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