On Tip Toes

 

On Tip Toes

On tip toes, I leave my bed

Quietly I peak around each corner

preparing  my finger-biting amygdala

for what might pop out

from the dusky shadows that linger.

I try to soothe its busy chatter

and ancient,speech pressured warnings

by promising a smooth path,

one free of demons, and villians,

and unexpected surprises,

as we tip toe along.

But the day awakens

and morning calls. 

Glorious golden reds 

and warm soothing rays

splash over this tiptoeing form.

A  melody of a thousand tiny voices

singing and giggling in perfect harmony

emerges from the silence.

And the pure, untainted 'what isness' 

of the day

invites this human, 

and this that I am,

to join its playful antics.

Oh how I am tempted 

to leap forward 

into the light and joy 

that is held out  to us 

with tiny, dimpled hands...

but ...

this human,

with its fear,ful recitations,

its life-weary psyche,

and its tip toeing body, 

heavy with the to-do list 

it drags along,

heeds the internal warnings

and pulls back.  

For some reason,

I drop my eyes 

from the early light

and  follow it,

my annoying companion,

back into the shadows,

away from the morning's 

playful invitation.

 I bury my focus instead 

into the many 'must -dos' 

this human gets busy checking off

from its never ending list.

I sigh 

and the world echoes

the  grief

of this that I am.

 © Dale-Lyn, July 2024