It

It
is not personal,
it is common
knowledge;
and it is, too,
personal.
Is it uncommon
to experience the
extraordinarily
ordinary emotions
that we all know
far too well?
It knows that
not caring
means
not receiving.

I give it up,
again,
surrendering
all that,
the part of it,
that is outside
my control.

It is, and will be
forevermore,
in that space
that place
the untouchable.
Forgiven, but
who can forget?

It keeps coming back,
haunting, brooding.
Go away.
Okay.
Come back.
It is personal,
and yet it's not.

It is real,
and it is
real hands off
this time.
Palms up,
head down.

Squinting into
the distance,
with eyes closed.

Labyrinth of Petals

This is a watercolor painting of mine that is the inspiration for an ongoing story I have posted in another blog.