Poetry is the stray puppy
That I offered a drink
And then it wouldn’t leave my heel
Following me wherever I went
Till I was spent trying to shoo it away
Imagine my dismay
Every time I threw a stick , in the hope I would lose it,
It would bring back two
And leave them by my feet
Like sacred offerings
Its big puppy eyes imploring me to accept
Its tongue hanging
It’s tail wagging
Each oscillation an interruption
To my life....
It wouldn’t let me concentrate on what I needed to do
Till I forgot what it was that I was doing...
and in responses all I got was a happy bark, and another round of play.

Till finally one day, it didn’t come back.
My aim had improved,
I had thrown its chase track off my ability,  
it followed the futility
and was led astray.....

I had always wanted it that way!
Didn’t I?
So why, now that all of my heart was mine
I was somehow, un-fine
Something, something, that I could not define!
Now I looked for the puppy
All all paths I knew
In all directions I could see
In all dimensions I could be,
Till I finally found it,
Hiding, whimpering, scared, in me.

Poetry for me, was the unwelcome guest
That taught me we don’t always get to  chose
Sometimes we are chosen.

A.
4.9.18