Residence: Base Feelings

He told me to welcome them:
‘Let them in, entertain!’
With open arms,
“Enter, come on in.”

But at times, they stayed for too long.
We lived around each-other
frustrated and compliant,
“I’ll make room for you.”

Though I wish I didn’t have to.
Because soon
impulse summoned through shattered windows
and beckoned with broken arms,

“Come in guys, you’re at home here
I like how you feel.”
The self-pity, still a drug,
Something I knew before.

I sleep in the garden,
They, on king-size beds.
I eat blades of grass,
And they feast on steak.
I shower with the hose,
They get the tub.

Pretty soon, we’ll swap places
and they’ll go where I should.
People will ask what’s wrong
and they’ll respond:

She let us in.

(With love to The Guest House, Rumi)

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