Stress Ball
Contracting and containing; holding breath; clenching fist
Fingers busy pressing down what is as the mind makes its list
Of things to do “out there” that will help to stuff the
grief
Inside the round and spongy ball of tightly squeezed relief.
Meanwhile, necks strain to hold up heads swollen with
pressing thought
and jaws clamp shut with iron bars over words that must be
caught
forever within this flimsy crate of flesh, this image of
perfect “me”.
Tight smiles on painted faces give the world what it asks to see
Busy limbs moving
frantically, propelling, barely touching earth,
blindly grasping, clinging, reaching for some semblance of expected
mirth
while all the less than pretty is pushed down into nasty painful knots,
stuffed deep within the chords and sinews, forming lethal
clots.
“Move, move, move”
and Do,do,do!” is constantly demanded
And the body, just a foolish tool of the mind, will do as it
is commanded,
straining against the force of gravity, stressing , in this
world of busy men
all swimming in the same direction toward the unreachable
amen.
Until “Stop!” the inner voice calls out, “release your
lethal hold!
There is no need to work so hard to contain all you have
been told.
Stop for a second and take one breath of life’s refreshing
air
And release the exhausting hold you have on your turmoil and
despair.”
Let your fingers relax their hold over that which you make
so small
And allow and watch what is to grow again within this spongy
ball.
Life naturally expands so easily from its once painfully
constricted state
When you release the pressure you put on it with all your mental
weight.
Allow the stuffed experience to be freed from its diminished,
twisted guise
As the once contracted , tightened muscles stretch into what
is wise.
Let go! Of your need to restrict the space that you do not
understand
and relax into the ease of it, as you watch it happening in
your hand.
©Me(Dale-Lyn)...April 30/2020
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