Hunger

October 23, 2022

I keep confusing your lack of outright rejection of my painfully birthed verses of affection with some kind of real communion or passion of sorts.

It takes me a while to realize that you haven’t exposed your own energy to me in any way.

My excitement that you haven’t shamed me off the playground gets confused with actually having received something from you that is real and true and unmeasured.

You see, I used your crumbs for so long to keep me from starvation — too scared to complain because the alternative appeared to be so dire.

So my heart still licks the plate and shows gratitude like a prisoner who has opted to be good and favored versus an unwieldy and troublesome squeaky wheel.

(That’s how I was raised.)

You are by profession a mirror and were trained by life and by vocation to gently and safely reflect everything tacitly up to a generous point.

(That’s how you were raised.)

You know how to play along without actually giving up any of yourself in the process — yet you are giving all of yourself away in the sands through the hourglass.

Pathology is the only thing that might trip you up into actually showing your cards. Professionally. But in your elective life, you would more likely turn to mist.

So now…the pressing question I must ask before I volley some of my soul back your way …exactly how hungry am I today?