A Little Longer Still

I don’t want to
think
any longer. I don’t want
to sort between truths and lies
and ignorance in a world too ready
to believe the worst Instead of the best,
instead of taking the time to find the truth
before shooting the wounded.

I don’t want to
think
any longer. I am tired of it.
I want to be able to believe
and trust both those who sit on my side of the fence
and the other side. Truth is simple.
At least it should be, but caught in the brambles,
it is often hard to find
and I bleed as I cut through the thorns designed
to keep me from it.

I don’t want to
think
any longer. I want to be innocent again.
That is where my heart is. Let love be love.
Let kindness be kindness and not a culture war.
Tell me truth, not interpretations. It is not
as hard as it seems. Merely inconvenient.

I don’t want to
think
any longer. I want to stand at the ocean’s edge.
or in front of a painting for the longest time,
or looking at the woman I love, longer than she might like.
and simply feel. I want love without complications.
I want escape more than responsibility,
but thinking
is part of the gig. Otherwise
the liars win. Otherwise
I cannot live with myself and my blindness.
I cannot change. Or grow, so

I do not want to
think
anymore,
but I do, every day
until my mind and spirit are worn
and frustrated and oh so tired.
And then, a little longer still.

About this poem

A long week of anger (mostly not mine) and lies and people too ready to believe the worst when the best is sitting in front of them. Too willing to condemn without knowing the full story, or even 10% of the story and having no interest in learning. I would make a good hermit, except I love the people in my life too much, and they are good for me.

The photograph is of my son in front of art in Albany, NY. Years ago.

Tom