ole battleship annie

 

euphoria always has a price.

the tiny pleasures, the momentous moments,

the inexpressible joys

 must be strung like pearls,

each little lustrous bead unique.

hurts suffered long ago

sometimes make us wary,

we build a fortress to protect us

we hold our shield up to life

and shout “No!”

thus do we shorten that string of pearls.

so much time spent building barriers,

questioning motives, imagining derision,

straining to hear whispers

and steeling ourselves for rejection

so that when something truly wonderful

does happen we are bereft of reaction.

we try to say the right things,

we know the script,

but we feel disconnected.

perhaps we locked it all up long ago,

and now we are not sure that a key even exists

once i was told that i hold others at bay

with an invisible straight-arm as i fix a skeptic eye on them,

force a tight smile and say “stay right there where i can see you”

it was also said that i am like a battleship,

gleaming in the sun, my decks all polished,

my flags flying crisply and smartly,

my guns loaded and trained on anyone

daring to broach my boundaries.

at the time i thought it was quite the picturesque metaphor.

but as i grow ever older,

i am beginning to understand the grimmer reality of it.