The Necklace Knot
I sit on the floor with my bed as back support because the
mattress feels too comfortable-
I don’t deserve that yet.
I’m in nothing but what I see. A problem
on my desk that I walk past
every morning,
every night
caught up in the labyrinth of life,
meaning to resolve.
Perhaps I could progress to the
bed if I manage to untie it- but only if I do,
as if I’ve grown tired of our tendency to sympathize for the oppressed.
I’ll now get up- I know it hurts, but you must.
I have it in my hands now. The usual generalization begins,
my hands impatiently scattering the whole knot,
making it seem looser
but not getting
Anywhere.
I could pick that one strand, but what if it’s the wrong one?
What will it lead to? My time could be wasted.
And since when was time an issue for you?
Okay. Strand by strand, it’s getting looser but I find myself doing the same thing
because it’s the same strand, the same life
over and over,
when will this end?
Come on necklace come on hands, stop shaking, imagine shining in it, shining in what once scared you.
Think of rest, think of shine,
think of showing the world what you resolved.
Here we are. The daylight shines on the
necklace, knotless,
exposed. Vulnerably free.
