How long ago were we taught
to fight with our own selves,
to oppress and bind ourselves–
to be better, to be nice, to fit in, to be worthy?
To be successful, accomplished, competent?
Parents aren’t to blame, they were taught the same.
Go back and back and back. . .
and back.
It served something much larger
for us to bash down our own beating hearts and bright,
lit up eyes.
We needn’t be oppressed from out there when
we do it first from the inside.
Go to a job (what a weird requirement)
at the outlet mall so you can live.
Nursing survival fears, real and imagined,
keeps us very busy–and useful–
to systems that cut us from the land,
from the divine,
from one another.
Life has never been, will never be, easy
but isolation,
disconnection,
meaninglessness
are the poisons we serve our own bodies and minds
when chasing and begging for pieces of paper.
Currency.
And the fear of not having enough, or
losing what we have,
ties us in
to beliefs and habits and conditioning
that make television the closest thing
to mother’s milk that we can reach.
Or the bottle.
Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with me.
Nothing is wrong with us.
But something is wrong with wedging our precious selves
into tiny spaces, tiny perspectives, tiny versions
at the breath-stealing expense
of our own inborn radiance.