Love Poem 34

On the topic of feelings,

there is a strong sentiment that we must

feel something and

it must be important and it must be something

to which we pay a great deal of attention

because we have had

the blade of stoicism

pressed to our throats and our balls

while we sowed

seeds of order

intended to be reaped in perpetuity.

A lot has been made about

how important feelings are,

but there are always caveats on

how we should feel,

how we should live,

how we should love,

and how we must be just so.

When confronted, we sometimes

become beholden to the power of a feeling,

we fall into their wells of gravity.

As toxic as it can be to live

without feelings,

addiction to the

swaying,

swirling,

and twirling of

guts and heart

can kill as quickly as a bullet or as slowly as a cigarette.

The attachment to

outcome and expectation

can be seen no more clearly than in

the response of

incredulity

and self-righteousness when one’s feelings

impact another,

as though the notion that one’s feelings might be in

the wrong

is borderline unbelievable, if not outright unbelievable.

Out come the Feeling Police,

here to show us how to feel,

how it should look,

how loud it should be,

how much hurt it can come from,

how filled with love it can.

I understand it and I find it to be of the

grandest level of humour.

Either don’t feel at all or feel too much.

Feel so much it eats you from the inside out.

Feel so deeply you drown in it.

Stand on every hill.

Die on every hill.

Be so committed to a feeling,

so attached to light through a lens

that there is never release and

there can never be true feeling.

So far the pendulum has swung

that we exist between worlds rather than

tasting freedom in one or the other.

Funn how whether we

bottle our feelings or

marinate in them

that the same results are borne.