a poem on resistance

Is there a Softer Response to all this Mess?

To resist.

Sounds like one would punch their fist.

To resist.

Sounds like one feels a bit pissed.

To resist.

Sounds like one is crunched up and contracted inside.

…a feeling surely not to be missed?

To resist.

Something. Someone. Some feeling. Some happening.

…trust me there’s a long list!

But hang on…

Doesn’t to resist.

Sound a little like to exist?

So is existence the softer version of resistance?

Without the fist, fire and frustration.

Cushioned by the fluff of a Silk bombax seed pod.

And ready for renewed imagination.

If to exist is to accept the “isness”.

To surrender to whatever is.

Without labelling it as good or bad or happy or sad...

Then perhaps we can become okay

with what was once not okay

and now

just simply

is.

My energy and attention is averted.

FAR away from exactly what it was I did not want to take root in my mind!

I focus instead on a different story I desire to be real.

Towards the more contented opposite that I magically find.

Hmmmm…

Isn’t it funny how the loudness of that thing.

That uncomfortable thing I was resisting.

Has suddenly started to become more quiet, peaceful, spacious.

It feels as though it has stopped persisting.

I know it’s still out there.

Along with the aliens and stardust.

But it’s less in HERE.

My being feels less like winter rust.

I haven’t given up caring.

There’s still courage, power, sadness.

I’ve just taken up love.

Swept away by it’s madness.

As the fear that fuels resistance alchemises into love.

It becomes obvious.

That my ripple effect in this entangled world.

Is now contributing to creating one less factious.