ensared in protection.

protection. i wanted to write something here about protection. about how living is protecting yourself, and how there can be too much protection, too much shielding, hiding away, putting up barriers. i saw a hawk sitting at the top of a tree, protected, able to fly away, and yet we've caught hawks before, all sorts of birds and animals. humans can capture even the most protected and hidden.
is the way to go then revelation? to reveal all, to open one's self to revelation? because no matter how much i protect myself i feel more and more trapped by that from which i hide.
protection makes me silent.
silence is a distance i usually find it difficult to leap over.
when i think i have nothing to say, it's because i'm afraid of what i have to say.
to turn inward with fear and to face that from which i protect myself is my greatest challenge.
it is not the outside humans that catch me, but the net of my own making.
ensared in protection.

2-3 pm

it's odd to be so angry, enough to identify the feeling
because feelings I can't identify.
bad prose and illusion-comments.
it's strange to be so angry, but I guess I always was
because this dasein is mine.
it's Confrontation Friday. I find myself hiding behind a wall
built from mask-bricks, and shine a light on fear
dirty and drab in its corners.
this feels better, my anger.

No Kid Icarus am I

the past isn't the past isn't past. and why does one get ensared in the steel jaws of memory? Inextricable and unescapeable no matter what the struggle is made of.
best to just lie still and let it eat you?
best to lie still and be angry, no?
perhaps and perhaps most likely not.
instead of struggling for escape from the jaws of life, instead of laying in wait for the final bite, why not dig, dig and dig, at the past and its base? why not dig until you've freed the past that was anchored in your skin all along?
I dug out a metal trap from the ground so moist and soft, I dug out a three ton weight that threatened to carry me along, and now I walk holding the trap that takes its awful bite. And now I walk carrying the weight that holds me tight.

you say you're angry but I say you don't even know
you say you're angry but I say maybe so
and let's take a step back into the past and give it its due
but you don't even have a clue because
you say you're angry and I say I don't even know
you say you're angry but guess what you can't let it go
you say you're angry but I think that anger is you

when consumed by the feeling one ceases to have the feeling and instead becomes a part of the feeling. part and parcel post. it is easy to have happiness in a bottle, but impossible to join it in that bottle. it is hard to keep anger in a bottle, but so easy to let it out and drown in its vapors.

I once took a leap of faith on the strength of the absurd. do you know what this means? of course not.
but I do.
I took a leap, a leap that would be considered by all and sundry to be absurd, as they said as I flew:
"Why jump from solid ground into thin air?"
"What does he think he'll land on that will be sturdier than the mundane?"
"Who does he think he'll become that's stronger than he already is?"
But flying I didn't think, and didn't hear them. In flight I only flew.
And my toes just barely touched down on a rock so solid, so lofty, so secure that I looked back and wondered how it was that I had thought I had any balance at all.