The Tightrope

You said you were committed.

I said I’d be supportive.

But the words don’t sit well.

For your actions tell a different tale.

And your dogged words seem far too determined.

Such blind insistence.

Or path of least resistance?

Ever searching for the answers you want.

All the while ignoring the signs along the road

that might lead to the ones you need.

Neglecting the scattered litter

of past mistakes and warring expectations.

Which I beg to witness at a comfortable distance.

Without uncomfortable and conscripted exchanges

between different people

on different journeys.

Anxious to see a figure on the far horizon.

Hoping they find their way to being kinder.

And more grateful.

But the path keeps twisting and returning

and treading over the same old ground.

Now hardened against new growth.

New possibilities.

New love.

Always looking for something more than that they should be thankful for.

And the peace and simplicity and beauty of the generous road just cleared

is suddenly cluttered.

And claustrophobic.

And strewn with dog treats and decorating magazines.

And the trail becomes a tightrope.

With blindfolded eyes set on some illusive prize at the other end.

Trying to balance on the narrow rope that is constantly off-kilter.

Shaken by opposing desires.

Lack of trust.

Pack of lies.

Loving, but misguided intentions.

Desperation.

Ever the victim.

It’s hard enough to watch.

Don’t ask me to take that wavering walk.

I’m happy here on the ground with my family and friends.

Whose relationships I’ve earned.

Not cajoled.

Not bought or sold.

Which need work.

Here and there.

But are always easy and comfortable.

Trustworthy and sincere.

And certain.

Are you certain?

Of it?

Of you?

Of the rope and where it’s leading to?

Are you certain the links of this coupling are strong,

Not bound by fears of a future alone?

Questions I’ll ask from that comfortable distance.

Hoping you’ll find the prize you seek

beyond such blind insistence.