Denial
When there’s no enthusiasm
for the bed and sheets, pillows,
love like a restless bird
has flown right out the window.
Too late to close the window;
what’s meant to be has been
but not too sure returns a one
unto the forgotten.
And then the forgotten
returns slowly ever sure
into the realms
of absolute denial
until denial like the thing it is
brings the truth a-tumbling in
through windows, doors and air vents,
until it simply fades away
through too much oxygen.
Denial is allergic to
the air of simple truth
and pity so a one who keeps
denial as a bed fellow
in avoidance of
a shift in consciousness
to a higher mind.
The higher mind can’t abide
so very many lies
made and promulgated
as the order of a life
but it knows to let it be
until suffers one to see
denial no means to happiness
in the now and ever after!
Helen / 31 May 2009
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