Do you remember that feeling when a “best” friend goes through downs with no ups?

You shush your child when he wants to play, then you ignore his plaintive calls.

You pick the phone over family, as she calls at hours unearthly.

Days of listening fly faster than the supersonic jet. You calm her fear, offer a sympathetic ear, extend arms, grant those hugs, crack open the heart to help put her broken pieces back. Brick by brick you try to build her confidence and courage to leave his cheating ass. Angry, she listens out of one ear, and she lets it out the other. She hovers between denial and acceptance. You understand, but you persist. She stays against her better judgment, until one day, he chooses to leave.

You’re in for it, as she begins reconstruction. You drop everything to pick her call just to facilitate her climb. You pull her out of the rubble, and encourage taking baby steps. You take for granted your halcyon life to throw yourself in improving hers.

Meanwhile, the phone never stops ringing off the hook.

Repository of insecurities and secrets, you stay quiet when she lies. You see her vulnerable ego, when she lets others know she put self-esteem first. “Zero tolerance,” she emphasizes before letting them know she was the one who walked out on him for “minor” transgressions. “Self-respect and independence,” she touts as if they were her twin virtues. Your lips stay sealed when you remember her fears of falling down; the tongue does not slip in letting others know of her morbid fear of sliding down socio-economic ladder rungs. She opted for this dysfunctional life, until he walked out on her.

She self-aggrandizes in larger company. You refrain from correcting untrue statements or from using knowledge from prior admissions. You ignore flashes of petty jealousy. You understand oneupmanship and constant comparisons come from a place of perceived deprivation. Instead, you continue encouraging by circling back to her unique strengths. You patiently root for her ascent and wait for her to play on level field.

Suddenly, Life begins to play her tune. Her victories lie in infinite accoutrements, a new partner indulges as a trophy. They swish and swan together, my friend and her indulgent sugar daddy. It’s not your way. but you let a friend’s happiness become your own. With satisfaction you carve that time to celebrate and share her joy. It’s her moment, it’s her wish, and it’s time.

You wait for that call to come, but the phone somehow has forgotten its usual ring.

The house is still and all is well.

They've been gone since the morning,

Making me the guardian.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I am perched at the top of the grand set of stairs,

Enabling me to see the entire house.

With my hearing however, my spot is almost meaningless.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I hear rustling in the corner of the TV room.

I hurry over to find a roach, and the problem is taken care of.

It was obviously born in the house, for

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

As I make my way back to my post, I hear people.

They are approaching the side door.

I sprint to the door ready to defend.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I hear the familiar rattling in the doorknob, the rattling a key makes.

I am overcome with joy as the door opens and they are there!

My job is done for the day, and I can rest until tommorow.

Nothing comes in or out without me knowing.

I know all your tender spots, those places that hurt the most and I'm going to dig into them, poke them, prod them, pummel and pound them.

I look at you lying there, so vulnerable, and chuckle to myself knowing you will soon be pushed to the limits of your pain.

Should I use my thumbs? Elbows? Suction cups? Needles?

Should I pull your limbs? Stretch you? Contort and twist you?

The pleasant music sings in a lying lullaby.

I grin and crack my knuckles. Oh where should I begin...?

Sixteen years of admonition,

highs and lows in disposition….

evidence of change?

Sights of sorrow; mem’ry calling

fresh felt heartache, teardrop falling.

Did I rearrange

time to practice love of brother,

caring less for self than other,

keeping promise strong?

Holding hope to change for better,

recognizing self as debtor,

righting what is wrong?

Change, a choice beyond mere token,

hands to help or dreams left broken….

Not too late to start,

even now, to step with meaning.

Teach with hope of goodness gleaning

lessons of the heart.

You're sure roses are red?

That's just one point of view

Because what I see as ruby

Looks emerald to you

What you might call green

In it's variable hues

All looks the same

Until it strays toward blues

To cries of 'misrepresentation!

Flowers labelled askew!'

Well, to me there's no difference 

Between violet and blue. 

I've learned to adapt

I do fine, I make do

But I don't believe all that I see

To be true.