A Slight Discomfort

There is wind in it. Movement.
Colors dancing. In ways it is your favorite
time of life. Old enough to know better,
wise enough to choose while still in control
of your own decisions. Finally.
Old enough to care less about opinions,
care more about people.

But there is wind in it. Things change.
You are surprised less at others,
more at yourself, what you are capable,
what you reject. A slow coming out
of your shell. A willingness to bleed in public.
You think you like the changes, but it is early yet.
You are not certain. Time will tell.

There is a wind in it, A dance.
A holy dance or the dance of the devil?
You do not know, You only know leaves dance,
The wind dances. When you are in a certain mood,
you dance. Dance in the chances.
Dance out the dark spirits. Dance alone.
Dance with a sinuous partner. Dance

through the discomfort. Dance
like David before the ark, Blasphemous
and holy all in the release of joy,
because you know it is temporary.
Your life has shifted under your feet enough times
that you dance through the uncomfortable,
dance through your dark world lit with candles. Knowing
there is a wind in it, willing to be swept away.

About this poem.

Talking to a friend yesterday, who like me fights depression, and he was sharing how a bout of dancing had helped him the day before. And from that conversation, this poem.

Life is always shifting. Always. Dancing is helpful. I love the wind. It’s that time in life, where you smell the change on the breeze, but cannot name it. Poetry is never about one thing. If people were simpler, it might be. But we are not.

The painting is one of mine. It is titled “A Slight Discomfort”. Painted a year or so ago. Largish, 2′ x 4′.

Tom