Standing

I have been standing too long, never sitting, never waiting so much to lean back in patience.

Never looking to watch, not watch as in see, but see as in watch from an open view.

It is a new day. Every day is a new day.

I do not have the voice but I want to sing.

I want to scream because it is my way of singing.

I haven’t screamed enough. Even if I want to scream or sing, I don’t.

I am just standing still, never wanting to rest.

Always on edge.

I lay my head.

The rock of stress, my head I lay.

Everything is bare, open upon itself.

Like my head spilling on the rock called stress.

Peace is far from me!

I decided to throw my baggage, the first time I’m fully deciding.

For decision is an act, a way of knowing who you are.

And I decided.

Decided to throw.

I am a judge.

I like to think I am just.

I never look inward. Never bother with my actions.

Like the huge log, nagging at the soft speck.

Go there it says. Wait here it commands. Not caring about its blindness

Only standing, with my eyes on the sun.

Waiting for a new day.

But every day is new.

And I don’t want to be always standing anymore.

I can do both, I know.

I can do it all because that’s who I am.