For Want of a Nail

A poem from the tangled places

Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash

Shadows dance across the wall—
morning blooms from night.
Footsteps sound from down the hall;
I sit down to write.

The words lodged deep in my throat—
time kept spinning by;
point my bow, my mind a boat—
time, at last, to try.

For so long, a tangled knot—
my thoughts ebb and flow.
Tugging threads I long forgot—
hidden depths below.

Every time I pulled one loose
and thought, “here, at last—
this is it!” I would deduce;
smirking there, my past.

Suddenly an eddy grew
to pull my focus.
Days ran by, as I’d strive to
reclaim my locus.

Down I’d go, to dive once more
deep in the tangles.
Lose myself, another score—
seeking new angles.

Time sped up, so much to do—
surely this can wait.
Life bore down, turning me blue—
pressure won’t abate.

Down in the depths, huddled there—
children fear the light.
Protectors circle with care—
keeping them from sight.

So many lay beneath my boat,
hiding in the marsh.
Their cries pierce my fragile coat
but I scold, so harsh.

So unkind to all these bits
scattered ‘round my soul.
Young and old, my precious gifts—
stifled and controlled.

My fear of being devoured
locked them all away.
Exiled them, as a coward—
false smile on display.

Somehow in life, I forgot
to accept my whole;
my inner world left to rot—
obscuring my soul.

Until I knew, all was lost—
my kingdom, a farce.
My past and my future cost—
all for fear of parts.

For you see, I had grown cold
underneath my mask.
Frail and unable to hold
‘til I dared to ask—

all these guards I’d hated so,
over these long years.
How they worked, I didn’t know—
guarding me from fears.

With their leave, I dove one more—
sought to make amends.
Gently pulled each child to warmth—
hoping to be friends.

These knots are mine, precious parts—
though I’ve wished them gone.
Finding Self, my fear departs;
my map now redrawn.

To accept and love them all—
this, my sacred rite.
No matter how big or small,
acceptance is right.

Everyone now has new roles,
working together.
We can all now set new goals—
braving all weather.

As my Self leads, parts in sync—
basking in the sun.
Never from then will I shrink,
for we are of one.
— Liora