It’s over now. Let it go. Finally the calm after the storm. To survey the ruin. Look at all the beautiful debris. You blew it all up. You blew up everything. There’s Tony again. He came out today. Take a puff off your cigar, Tony. As you survey an empty, smoldering field. Blow the smoke up defiantly in the air with your sunglasses on. “You don’t have to love me, but you *will* respect me.” F—k ‘em all, f—k ‘em all. It’s how you were raised. Your lower angels paid a visit today. It’s how broken people are made. A few rebuild. You bet your a-s you will, you say. Silence is your best weapon. They’ll never hear from you again. You’re not going down. You’re going up. They’re in the rearview mirror, and you punch the mirror down with your left fist. So you don’t have to look. It’s not even worth the reminder. Soft people acting soft. Soft people acting tough. You never met a tough sponge you couldn’t squeeze. And still … someone died on the cross today. Someone better than you. You know that much is true. But maybe the lesson is you have it in you. You can rise up. Well, maybe … at least a little bit, too. You know the day will come soon when someone reminds you, and you just shake your head and smile a little. “That was all so stupid,” you might say. “I don’t even think about it now.” So, what got you to act that way, the person next to you asks. I don’t know, you might respond. I was looking for love in all the wrong places, you say. You know, like the song – you add. You didn’t invent anger, you’re told. It was here before you. It will be here long after you’re gone. You let your ego roar today. The problem is, when you know someone is right, you don’t want to hear it. Don’t tell me about goodness. Not today. I’m dying on my cross. Leave me alone. Tell me on a Sunday. Maybe I’ll rise up. And I’ll forget this hell. I know I’m not rising up as high. But, oh, God, just let me move. But not today. Let me sit in silence. Let me lord over all I’ve destroyed. Let my ego scream loud. I haven’t let it out in so long. It needed some air. I’ve tried to bury it for so long. The f—ker keeps bouncing up. A gasp, almost a laugh, saying exasperatedly, “Can’t get rid of that thing.” … can’t get rid of that thing. And a silence, a stillness, and a sadness. … Well, there’s your future, boy. That empty smoldering field. What will you build out there? I can’t think about building today. So, enough about me. I’m sick of hearing it, too. How about you? I hope you had a better day than I did. I set fire to it all today. I threw out the baby with the bathwater. Like ghosts, they’ll all fade away. Sitting patiently for twenty months trying to make two jigsaw pieces fit at the unsolved puzzle at the table. Someone whispers, “Is that what he does all day?” “He has incredible patience. He’s determined to make it work.” Then one day, the guy surprises everyone, when on day five hundred and fifty-one, he defeatedly flings the pieces to the wall. And the people around him are shocked. The action has far more power than it otherwise would. Because the five hundred and fifty days before it were so predictable. And someone snickers, “I knew he wouldn’t make it. *Now* you’re seeing his true colors, after all. … Told ya so.” When that guy wouldn’t sit a day with it if he hadn’t always gotten his own way with it. And you’re judged on day five hundred and fifty-one. And not the five hundred and fifty before it. And today you don’t care. Not anymore. And when taunted with, “So you finally gave up?” The surprise reaction is a tired calm. And, finally whispering, “I guess they were never meant to fit. I just needed to find out.” And you walk away without a sound, and you close the door. Today’s a day you wish you had a cigar. And Tony meets you in the driveway, on your way out of that house where you sat with a jigsaw puzzle for five hundred and fifty one days. And he’s got that *grin.* That says a million things. And, it’s for you. He shrugs his shoulders – that look that says it all, without needing to say a word. No surprise that he adds, “Hey … what ya gonna do.” Said as a sentence. No question in there. It’s rhetorical. It’s saying, It is what it is. Let it go, so you can live. You can’t watch anymore. Now it’s a thing called cheddar, and it will be faces you never remember seeing before. Like being moved to another home. Don’t worry, if the warnings go out. I won’t fall in love with anyone. That was a once-in-a-lifetime something. Do they make pills to forget? I’m not allowed to take pills of any kind, or drink. Well, not allowed by myself. I have to feel everything. Those are the rules these days. How could I have ever aimed for being a saint? My hands, I held them *so* high, outstretched to the sky. But it’s my feet – that are still touching dirt. That’s where my mortal coil will drop. Maybe that other part of me will rise to the sky. Two days to go. Roll a rock in front of the tomb. Unroll it on Sunday. Maybe the body will be gone. Maybe I will have risen up. Not as high as that someone other. But maybe far enough that there’s something new to view. Something new, something new. This is what happens when you love yourself. “You’ve got a funny way of showin’ it.” It’s not pretty. It doesn’t come easy. The old you would have endured it. You would have listened to some horrible brother-in-law insult you, while a fist was made in your pocket, your fingers turning red. Brothers who wouldn’t defend you, before her-and-him became one unit of hell, and spreading it around. Breaking up is hard to do. Well, I’ve still got you. I’ve got myself. This ol’ kid makes a lot of noise. And don’t let him carry matches. He burns things to the ground. Does this guy sound even a bit like you? As for me, I’m in awe of this guy, this newly found person called me. Does the hurricane apologize for the destruction done? Certainly not if no one was harmed. Sometimes storms just need to be heard. And they go away. They always do. You’re a storm. You were today. Some mistook you for a drizzle. They don’t mistake you anymore. But, anyway … all that’s over now. You’re moving on. “Perhaps people think that I have come to cast peace upon the earth. But they do not know that I have come to cast dissension. … For there will be five in one house. There will be three against two. And two against three. Father against son, and son against father. And, they will stand as solitary ones.” You think you get it now. You had to rise and divide in order to become whole inside. You feel the low, you feel the high. But get back to the sky. Get back to the sky. Become passers-by. Become passers-by. You can be love again. Maybe – if not today, the day after. And the past disappears before your eyes. You’re stronger than before. It all had lessons to teach you. There’s an empty field to build upon. What are you going to do? … what ya gonna do … There’s that smile in your eyes. Nothing’s going to touch you now. The past is gone. Your debt is paid. You don’t owe a single one of them anything. Now you can shine your love. On everyone. And anyone. Anyone who comes into view. New. You’re an empty vessel. Carved out inside. A fire blazed within you. To burn out what could never do. Let them gaslight and gossip. You don’t hear them anymore. You stand as a solitary one. In your strength. And the whole point was to give your love. Give your love. Give your love, fresh and new. You heal a broken bird. That bird has no idea what you have been through. You, too, rarely remember now. A moment birthed of tenderness. Somehow, without the tumult, it could never have been. You felt nailed down. All the violence, and the scorn. And a letting-go is the result. Maybe you’re not flying quite as high, but you’ve risen up. As long as you get back to love. Sometimes angels within you appear, in disguise. Sometimes as a devil, if only to open your eyes. Let it go, let it go. You’re human, after all. But there’s something a little taller about you. Something was carved out that wasn’t needed. And gentleness replaces hardness. Someone new is coming into view. Someone who will really benefit from this new you. And the love you have to share. She’s counting on you. He is, too. You’ve risen up. So, what are you going to do? … ‘what ya gonna do’ … and there’s that smile in your eyes. There’s that grin. 🌟