For a good friend
The thoughts are grand that tie me down.
There must be better way of dealing with a
child crying its perfection every 15 minutes.
Yesterday you and I spent two straight hours together.
I have held your hand
but you refuse to hold mine
or do so grudgingly.
You are witholding your respect
until I can prove myself.
I wish I could pierce these primal laws
that dictate your jealousy of my freedom,
my desire to support
and the utter hopelessness of the task.
I can barely hold myself.
I will walk, but the road I choose is my own.
If you want to be supported, let me choose the road
and method of transportation.
I am tired of pressure.
A walnut cracks between mountains,
and I am barely a seed.
I need your hand, that is all.
Here is a comfortable place to sit
Here is a basket for clothes
A hamper for food
And our child, well wrapped, for you to hold close.
Sit down there, feet tight into the footwell.
Pack yourself in amongst the cases.
In the morning the wind is coming
and we’ll need to make some headway
whilst it is still night.