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.

Author: Anne Celano Frohna

I have been writing for as long as I could hold a pencil in hand and would not feel complete without it. And I actually made a meager living at it (and as an editor) for 25 years. I worked for newspapers and magazines, in graphic arts and advertising, and wrote several local history books. But I have also taught English in Japan, been a Nanny in Italy, worked in and for museums, and was an Airbnb Superhost for four years. After moving to Arizona with my family in 2010, I completed a series of different writing projects, including two books of creative non-fiction: Just West of the Midwest: a comedy (Based on journals I kept during my two years as an English teacher in rural Japan.) Within Close Range: short stories of an American Childhood (Short stories and poems about growing up as the middle of five children in suburban Chicago.) I've also written children's stories and continue to write short fiction, but have recently found my voice in poetry. And when I'm not moved to write, or research a large piece of fiction I'm formulating, I focus much of my energies on running my Etsy shop, ChannelingNonna (channelingnonnavintage.com), where I sell vintage clothing, folk art, books, and a trove of other items I have found and continue to bring home from thrift stores, barn sales, yard sales, estate sales, etc., whereever I roam. This blog, however, is where my greatest passion comes alive. Thus, this blog, where I post my creative non-fiction, short stories, a couple of illustrated children's stories and a comedy I wrote about two years I spent teaching English in rural Japan (NOT a story for a child.). I am also a mother of two wonderful girls, Eva (23) and Sophia (21) and wife to one wonderful husband, Kurt.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.