I brought along my melancholy smile
To show my friends I’m doing fine.
I’ll hide behind this tattered mask awhile
So nary one may sense decline.
And I will cheat their ev’ry deep concern
By simply brushing with my hand
The worries they will state but never learn
As none would ever understand.
This tattered mask has served me very well
Through all my days of inner rain,
When cause for celebration I can sell
My feeble smile to hide the pain.
So when my friends suspect distress and ask
I simply don this well-worn, tattered mask.

The slide has a 60 pound weight limit.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
It smells like freshly mown grass and a
Soaked one piece Ariel swimsuit—the pink ruffles that
Cling
To a toddler’s stomach rolls as she squeaks and squelches down the plastic
Into the dark blue Made in China kiddie pool
That has creatures from all levels of the ocean together
And she doesn’t care.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Has visible handprints on the sides from
The toddler holding on for dear life before
She gathers the courage to balance on top on her own.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Sits in that yard for almost a decade at the end
Of the sickly green swing set that lifts up out of the ground
Whenever the toddler pumps too hard,
And is a end destination for the intense races across the apparatus
That occur every Sunday noon amongst the Sunday School kids without fail.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit and
Under it is one of the best places for hide-and-seek in the winter,
When it is almost buried under the glistening snow
And the toddler can’t feel her legs anymore but she doesn’t care because
She can’t be found.
At that age she has no limits, no mental restraints that
Cut her dreams off before they bear fruit.
The slide has a 60 pound weight limit,
And of the world beyond it she is only a
Prisoner of fierce fascination.

To inhabit the space  within
oneself,  to such a degree
that the skin, thins itself out

    in order to leave  room
    for that which is  to occupy--

An indwelling  
of self,  to such a degree
as to stretch the skin
to full capacity..

    leaving no room  
    for ambiguity--

All cells and atoms, within
now  fully occupied,

   fully inhabited

by the most beautiful  
form of indwelling  of all--


   That,  of the self.

I will wear blue
a subtle gentle hue
but only on the outside
my what I show without side
the blue inside
on my underneath my skin side
is a much darker shade
that will not entirely fade
it's the indigo of empty
call it pain
for the things I have lost
that I thought would remain