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Island

May 13, 2014

At first you don’t want to know how alone you are,

Much like grief, there is denial and this goes on

For quite awhile. You spend your time with

People you will end up not liking but pretending you do –

If you’re already denying, why not continue.

Meanwhile your loneliness will surface,

And you’ll be sad about something:

Not having someone to kiss, or hold or take sides with

Or argue over the potato chips on top of the fridge,

Having kids, not having them. Eventually you will be so sad,

Because your heart won’t take the phony denial for long and

Those friends who aren’t your friends will exit your life

And you’ll be alone. You’ll hate it. You’ll go for the phone until

You listen to yourself think and find it interesting, inane,

Maybe even intelligent and witty –

Instead of waiting around, you start doing what you love,

Wishing someone was alongside you but proceeding regardless

To the mountains, or the ocean or the movie theater.

About this time, you start telling your loved ones that you’ve

Gotten used to being alone. Which isn’t true and it’s not the same as liking it

So you stay alone until you realize there is something to learn here.

When you can sink into yourself without a tantrum and

Have rounded out your own rotten mind, you will

Witness the shimmering genie of Solitude (who vaguely resembles Socrates) –

When you’ve made shelter, found food, collected medicine, crafted weapons

And made home on that lush, bountiful island of yourself, you will be granted

Three nonreturnable gifts: you will know thyself, you will discern, and you will have compassion.

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