The unexpected always hurts
Like running into a pole
and the pain springs suddenly,
leaving you breathless.
Or the parasite that wiggles
and squirms and rolls
in the heart, the stomach,
the entire body.
Still, you force a smile and nod
to a decision you’ve had little choice in.
The unexpected is followed by change.
Like watching, as your home
is dismantled and packed away into
tiny cardboard boxes and put on a ship
and people you have never seen,
park in your driveway to view
with greedy gazes
the latest house left empty and race
to claim it.
To watch as it goes from your home
to their house.
The unexpected teaches you to adapt.Adapt to a new beginning and to the
end of your current.
Like stepping out to the sharp glare
of the sun
and no longer the light pitter patter
of the rain
on a bleak winter’s day.
Or walking into school only to see
new faces; curious gazes fixed to you instead
of bright smiles and hugs and hi’s.
The unexpected ends with hope.
Hope that perhaps this winter sun shines more brightly
and those curious gazes turn to
bright smiles and hugs and hi’s.
Or that the dull monotonous winter days
are overtaken by the clear blue skies and warm summer nights.
Hope that maybe one day I can come
back home
to the chirps on our cherry tree and the
kids rushing past my street.