Expedience
External obedience.
Having the end in sight,
No need to fight.
have it together.
Yes, expedience.
Expedience
seems to be the key.
Make a plan, pretend that makes it real.
Make a plan, pretend that means close to the end.
Or the beginning. Yet, never winning.
My solid plan leaves me spinning, spiraling to some meaning-
it all feels like there is no meaning.
Meaningless. Meaningless. Emptiness. Regretting my mess.
Expedience.
I yearn to cease to feel.
I’d rather not wonder, poles asunder.
Yet, I wonder. Now pulled under.
I admire those, who foolishly put themselves out there.
Reaching to meet, touching to greet; someone to love and be loved by another.
It’s better than never getting out there.
I never seem to reach, avoid the greeting, and bypass the leaning.
Expedience
It keeps you busy, having an aim.
Yet, I seem to fall away; when I wish for change.
I regret at times the moment I let people in.
permanently broken within.
I wanted too much. To love and be loved be another.
I couldn’t hold it all. Not in my hands; not in my head.
I dropped it, how pathetic.
Glassware on shelf, easily broken.
It’s not that there wasn’t interest. Rather my lack of
My lack of;
My lack of…
My lack of; I don’t know.
I ask those who know me well
Those who never knew me well
Those in between
Those who could only dream
Expecting, a reason.
A reason for why I am.
I know where I should seek, but even a peek is too scary for me.
If I change, I will truly get what I need.
My desires fulfilled, hope refilled, yearning relieved. Finally, being recieved.
Yet.
Expedience.
Expedience is easier to run from.
I’m not ready to be brave.
I’m hesitant to open up so wide.
I’d rather hide.
How am I braver than you?
How am I?
I see nothing but a coward.
Expedience.
It seems I’m only suited for one thing.
Being present for my family and learning.
Being likeable, but never very deep.
Laughing heartily in public; crying myself to sleep.
Will I ever meet the sacrifices that came before me?
Several, each parent bequeath onto me.
As if I could hold all these hopes and dreams.
I’m so confused.
I thought the water became clearer with age;
not muddier and hazier with each bend.
It seems, I’m never quite sure.
Expedience.
External obedience.
I wish I could just be what I’m meant to be.
Bypass the heartbreak.
I’m not afraid to work for it; I’m afraid how much I’ll break through it.
Malleable.
Malleable, I am not.
Scared to be anything that is not patched together glass shards,
a perfect, delicate, porcelain, china thing.
Some weeks, I just lack the energy to be that thing.
Instead, I’m patched together, poking through globs of glue.
a misshapen, prickly, shattered glass thing.
Expedience.
Oh why, can’t I be more obedient.
I’m always resisting now.
struggling with
Nothing.
Beating the wind,
as if that would do anything.
I won’t stop, though
I can stop.
I won’t. I won’t.
To what end?
I don’t, I don’t know.
BUT
I do know
Expedience.
A poem by L.V. Roy
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