Daisy Chain (Of The Heart)
The work is as endless as there are people;
by Jason Stutz
suffering is as cyclical as the sky.
But how can we spend our lives stretching our hope thin
upon the success and well being of others?
“It’s too tiring, it never ends, it’s a whirl,
they become helped and then go right back to the way they were.
What if anything will do any good? ”
But look at her- asking for only a little.
And look at him
frowning and cold faced
asking for nothing at all-
deep down, he is a forgotten one,
almost dead from crying so long, hard from fighting.
A smile. A girl smiles
and it enters him through special cracks he left open
for the off chance that something beautiful and worthy of trust is presented to him.
He appears unmoved: 'What if it isn’t? ', he thinks) ,
only his eyes look more intense, more cautious,
more wounded, more hopeful. 'Maybe, ' his body says.
But then she is gone. She saw something in him,
perhaps the bright color of his neck tie drew a time of well being to his complexion and that juxtaposed with him now was endearing to her...
and he sits, inhibiting any decisions about it, with that moment
held in every one of his senses for the rest of the hour-
it dances about like fireflies in the jar of his heart,
he can feel it in his fingertips and on his lips and in the tip of his nose, lighting him like a candle: her carefree turn,
her white smile, the beams of affection from her eyes:
they struck him- unmistakably- it was him they struck-
and despite the rumbling it caused inside of him,
he did not crumble
his walls are secure
he appears unmoved
no one can get at him,
he will remember her, probably forever.
Tomorrow, he may look out the windows of the train
and feel a stirring inside of him as the city comes into view.
Tonight he will go home and read a book or watch his favorite show, and it will seem to speak of him.
He will wonder what his name is:
is he worthy of remembrance?
With an effort, he realizes it.
Maybe, he considers. Maybe he is good.