Uncertain.
So much to ask,
ceaseless pull,
moral questionability.
Uncertain.
Head is winning,
heart is spinning.
Run away, flee -
avoid catastrophe.

My body is taut
wound
alert.
My stomach is churning;
my mind, churning too.
My heart - quite pleased actually.

So we’ll meet
and talk.
There’s nothing that my head admires here,
but my heart, wager of insurgent, prolonged war against my head -
demands a chance.
So, in the spirit of embracing the whole me, accepting the whole me,
She will have that chance.

But my head
will be back in full force soon...
it seems they have to agree
before I can find my balance.

OK, so my heart won that latest round
in the battle between head and heart
My head is sounding loud warnings,
but my heart is rejoicing.
Hold on!
The ride of life is speeding up…

If I see you
what I want to know is
where you are at.
I want to gauge you
by more than words -
by actions.

I want to tell you about me too
I now see, I've spent this life
denying my internal voice.
Doing what my head told me
over what my heart intuited.

I want to be listened to
in my small words and actions
in the small treasures of every day.

You brought alive in me
This feeling that my inner thoughts and musings
are worthy.
Not silly, inferior, or lesser.
I have been living and sharing them
(with my new poet friends) -
it is a great gift.

I didn't know that someone else
would find them interesting
and find them beautiful,
and be able to say:
me too.

You were the first for that.

My head and my heart
Are usually at war
My head wins the first round
And my heart
Settles in for a long
campaign of insurgence.

As I grow older
I see shades of grey.
Black and white disappearing.
Right and wrong?
Largely gone.
There are gradients,
with space there
for compassion.