Callous

I'm navigating life by my fingertips.

As I run my fingers across a sheet of sandpaper,

My skin is irritated.

Yet, when I run them over the smooth surface of a linoleum tabletop,

I feel cool relief.

Multitudes of thoughts come to mind in such moments of simplicity...

Were the sandpaper not such an irritation,

Would the feel of the cool tabletop be so gratifying?

If it weren't for the abrasiveness,

I would still wear a callous layer of skin.

Shielding my softness and vulnerability.

You see,

Despite the feeling of vulnerability,

I shed boastful pride and vanity.

As I shed a layer from running against the grain of the rough spots,

An element closer to my heart reveals itself.

We have the choice to brush up against the rough path,

Allowing it to create a thicker callous,

Or we can push back harshly and furiously.

I choose to push back harshly and furiously.

At least in the end I will have shed a few layers,

And the smooth touches to come will give me satisfying cool relief.