It feels like a splinter that started
with just a little pinprick
a tiny seed of doubt
and a soup├žon of discomfort

With every new motion
every new word
wiggled back
and forth
and back again
worming its way through layers
under my skin

The resurrection
of old words
old misdirections
in new context
(but not really so new
after all
maybe just the same context
the same play
with different players)
pushed it down deeper
inflamed it with memory
and ire
and wrongness
tainted the flesh
the space between heart and mind

The heart
wanting sameness
wanting closeness
wanting to forget
and forgive
and ignore

The mind
asking questions
unable to stay hidden
behind dubious covenants
or remain incognizant to
the sound of double speak

Both embroiled in
unwanted contest
for right
and true
and real
the struggle
working the splinter
deeper down
and deeper still

The heart wants
what the heart wants
at least
I think that’s what they always say
but I have met my heart
and known its desires
and seen where they lead
when left to run amok

The mind wants, too
to reconcile the goodness known
with the wrongness introduced
unlike the heart
it knows when to say enough
The mind recognizes futility
demands dissociation

The mind seldom leads
into the fire
like the heart
so I listen
I heed
I comply

the splinter comes to rest
in the heart
and it aches
and it twinges
but it buffets the splinter
in the things the mind cannot give
washes away the infection
the inflammation
and finally
even the splinter itself
is pushed out with the blood
out through the muscles
back up into the skin
through the layers
it’s just a pinprick again

Whenever I’m ready
I can pluck it out
blow it off my fingertip
into the wind
of a brand new day

Originally posted elsewhere, April 5, 2014