What if insight hits
Suggesting that when in conflict
With certain people
My tongue hath had sound reason
To have tied itself into tight knots of fear?
What if the nature of this troubling, tongue-tied condition
Is stimulated by my sense of responsibility
That feels pressured to take good care of another's needs
Thus denying my own?
What if any expression of conflicting opinion on my part
Throws this other person into such a vein-popping, apoplectic fit of passion
That the mere thought of igniting a hint of that wrath scares my intelligence silly
I mean, if that insight hits the bulls eye, then might I allow any hint of innuendo
To kill my voice—softly—year after year?
What if while working to develop insight into self awareness
These insights hit me right between the eyes:
This relationship has been based in swallowing my angst
This relationship has been based in sugarcoating painful truths
In truth, many relationships are based in
One person airing his or her views, freely
While the other feels need of taming his or her tongue
In truth, can a relationship as unbalanced as that
Be deemed a mutually supportive friendship by any stretch of the word?
As one insight inspires many more, I've come to see
That when my needs had reason to conflict with
The needs of certain others
A pattern had shaped up
Whereby a lump had choked the open pathway of my throat
Recently, I came to see that this lump
Is caused by a sizable portion of my tongue
Tying itself so tightly into a knot that my voice chokes, deep in my throat
And as a result, my mind has grown
Sick and tired of not expressing itself, freely
Today, insight into self awareness
Compels me to give voice to my angst
And thus doth growth in self awareness
Beg answers to questions
Such as these:
Will I permit the bitter taste of bile
To spew out, spontaneously
Thus matching insult for insult—or—
Will I give voice to my angst
With the simplicity of heartfelt compassion?
If thee professes
To know me at all
Then thee knows, full and well
That I'll ponder upon these questions until
I can unquestionably choose—door number two
And that recognition begs answer to this question:
How best might I address issues shoved under the rug
With those who have proven, repeatedly to be less than practiced
At discussing painful truths in a mutually respectful
And thus peaceable manner?
Ah! What tangled webs of woe
We mortals, who fear confronting painful truths, continue to weave
Ah! If only webs of innuendo might be untangled
In such soothing ways so as to expose naked truths
Without treading harshly upon the vulnerable aspects of each other's psyches
And thus does my subconscious work
To find a way to openly declare—
To those who quake with fear ...
Behind their self protective personas—
That my mind is so tired of pretense
No part of me can pretend that all is well ...
What I wouldn't give to project my voice
With the open simplicity of Dad's honesty, right now!
Oh wait! Is it possible that by way of my posts of recent weeks
My subconscious has been injecting my conscious mind with the antidote
Which may untie my tongue, thus melting the lump in my throat, at long last?
Wish me luck, my friends
For more reasons than one
You see, if it's true that one change leads to another then ...
Instinct suggests that once I've mustered the courage to untie my tongue
The lump in my throat will spontaneously evaporate into thin air
And as that welcome change
Is bound to depressurize
A back up of mental pain
Which blocks my channel of communications from ...
Connecting the left and right sides of my brain ...
I feel hopeful
That the story telling portion of my mind
May open it's gates
And flow freely—
Again!
Suggesting that when in conflict
With certain people
My tongue hath had sound reason
To have tied itself into tight knots of fear?
What if the nature of this troubling, tongue-tied condition
Is stimulated by my sense of responsibility
That feels pressured to take good care of another's needs
Thus denying my own?
What if any expression of conflicting opinion on my part
Throws this other person into such a vein-popping, apoplectic fit of passion
That the mere thought of igniting a hint of that wrath scares my intelligence silly
I mean, if that insight hits the bulls eye, then might I allow any hint of innuendo
To kill my voice—softly—year after year?
What if while working to develop insight into self awareness
These insights hit me right between the eyes:
This relationship has been based in swallowing my angst
This relationship has been based in sugarcoating painful truths
In truth, many relationships are based in
One person airing his or her views, freely
While the other feels need of taming his or her tongue
In truth, can a relationship as unbalanced as that
Be deemed a mutually supportive friendship by any stretch of the word?
As one insight inspires many more, I've come to see
That when my needs had reason to conflict with
The needs of certain others
A pattern had shaped up
Whereby a lump had choked the open pathway of my throat
Recently, I came to see that this lump
Is caused by a sizable portion of my tongue
Tying itself so tightly into a knot that my voice chokes, deep in my throat
And as a result, my mind has grown
Sick and tired of not expressing itself, freely
Today, insight into self awareness
Compels me to give voice to my angst
And thus doth growth in self awareness
Beg answers to questions
Such as these:
Will I permit the bitter taste of bile
To spew out, spontaneously
Thus matching insult for insult—or—
Will I give voice to my angst
With the simplicity of heartfelt compassion?
If thee professes
To know me at all
Then thee knows, full and well
That I'll ponder upon these questions until
I can unquestionably choose—door number two
And that recognition begs answer to this question:
How best might I address issues shoved under the rug
With those who have proven, repeatedly to be less than practiced
At discussing painful truths in a mutually respectful
And thus peaceable manner?
Ah! What tangled webs of woe
We mortals, who fear confronting painful truths, continue to weave
Ah! If only webs of innuendo might be untangled
In such soothing ways so as to expose naked truths
Without treading harshly upon the vulnerable aspects of each other's psyches
And thus does my subconscious work
To find a way to openly declare—
To those who quake with fear ...
Behind their self protective personas—
That my mind is so tired of pretense
No part of me can pretend that all is well ...
What I wouldn't give to project my voice
With the open simplicity of Dad's honesty, right now!
Oh wait! Is it possible that by way of my posts of recent weeks
My subconscious has been injecting my conscious mind with the antidote
Which may untie my tongue, thus melting the lump in my throat, at long last?
Wish me luck, my friends
For more reasons than one
You see, if it's true that one change leads to another then ...
Instinct suggests that once I've mustered the courage to untie my tongue
The lump in my throat will spontaneously evaporate into thin air
And as that welcome change
Is bound to depressurize
A back up of mental pain
Which blocks my channel of communications from ...
Connecting the left and right sides of my brain ...
I feel hopeful
That the story telling portion of my mind
May open it's gates
And flow freely—
Again!
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