Poem: January 11, 2026

Trained

Perhaps I have trained them away from me.

I will admit there were times, especially

in the last five years when I have been

difficult to be around, so who would be

surprised if their first inclination was

away from, not toward. The hand will

hesitate near the flame, once burned,

will always remember the blood lost

to the thorn, and while I would like

to think I am more than the flame and

the thorn, those old paths are well-worn.

So when they turn to you because they got

pulled over, or they may have broken

their ankle, or they want to talk through

a difficult situation, I must acknowledge

that, in you, they perceive an open

space, and in me, they perceive a wall,

and then I must be grateful that they

have you, and that they still see me at all.