Written at a place of unknowing. Now that I know - all is seen.
Indian Elephant enters the room.
Talking to me, talking to you.
She brings up the topics we don't want to see,
don't want to reason,
and don't want to be.
How could something so large be so ignored,
with nerves exposed and tears on the floor?
Why do I care so much what you say?
Tomorrow will change you mind anyway?
Remember the dreams that captured our hearts when we were feeling lost in the dark?
Recall the hope that nurtured and fed,
when we wandered in silence,
in fear and in dread.
Revive the joy that I once say on your face,
in your mind and surrounding your space.
Indian Elephant lives in this room.
Where self has become a barrier –
Like a silk divider in a hidden room.
Creating shadows and hiding clutter –
What would it look like if we could really see each other?
How could something so painful, so fearful, so small
grow to fill the space of our context - our friendship and maybe our fall.
Like a splinter that makes it difficult to touch,
move or work with anything in our lives that we love.
Feeling lost in this place of unknowing.
What am I walking into? What am I showing?
Feeding the fear that pounds in my brain,
needing shalom to wash over me again and again and again.
Failing to understand where we took a wrong turn.
How could I miss all the lessons I thought I'd learned?
Indian Elephant can't be ignored.
She just grows ever bigger with each glance and each word.
Instead of feeding anxiety and regret, what if we shared life sincerely,
than would be better, I bet.
Indian Elephant could live happy and free.
If you would really be you and you'd let me be me.
Copyright T.L. Eastman 2008
(Image original to www.Yardware.net - sorry address is faulty)
Comments
Are all of these (preceding and following this one) poems, lyrics with music, both, neither?
Tara