minefields

I know the care
the caution
the calculation
with which those words are chosen.

I know the barriers
the fences
the walls
that do not exist for a viewer on the outside

I know the tugging
of the old
of the new
and the need to dispel it
in attempts to launch a covert comparison campaign
to assess how things really stand.

I know what stepping on eggshells sounds like
and I know what sad honesty tastes like
I know how a pool
shimmering, filled to the brim
with thoughts and questions of frankness
and blunt nostalgia
tempts and tantalizes
sneaking off with sleep and brain capacity

I also know that the hardest part
is setting the sights just enough degrees to the left
to miss it
diligently
responsibly
tenderly.

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