Poetry for Comfort.
Because The Process is Uncomfortable.
The heart is fickle, and so is desire
We could have it all inside our heads
We open our eyes and we do a double-take
Why is it hard to climb high
And how high do we need to climb
For it to be enough
For it to be okay for us to smile
*
My mom said ‘there is no ease for the living’
I said nothing, there was nothing to be said
If life taught her so, what could I say
I could only listen and want a different way
A way where there is ease, a way where there is peace
And if giving birth is taxing, then living should be less
Or at least a process…
Yet, the process is so hard
And hard is everyone on cold nights
Yet we’re not the only ones, and we forget
That seeking each other is only right
*
Because we want a different way
Where discomfort is not all there is
Where dreams are not dreams
And where what we want wants us back
Where comfort isn’t another word for missing out
And where fun means waking up to see the sun
Where love is king
Where love is no utopian dream
Where honesty is the law
Where honesty doesn’t come at a price
But if life didn’t prove her so, what could I say
I could only strive to live my way
*
Until then, I hold her close
While looking up at the sun, the same one
Whose heat is fatal
But whose light we need
And I give her hope that ease is no fantasy
And for that, I stay true
That pain is not all there is.
