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.