“Struggle everyday, and love the struggle”
Is what I would tell you one day.
In all that cacophony of
Playing with one toy resembling another,
You will remember a few isolated bits and pieces
Of what it was like to be a five year old
Always waiting for your mother’s helping hand and
Smiling at her turns, her dedicated turns.
And things always turn out alright
Is what you would tell us
If you knew how much we were struggling.
But we struggle to stay within our senses
And to feel sensitivity wave through.
We struggle to make a quiet dinner
When there’s nothing much to say
And then we wonder if the magic has left us.
We struggle to speak what’s on our mind
And what’s better left unsaid.
If I could tell you J, that wonders
Exist beyond you
Forever streaming along
Would you believe me,
Or would you tell me “Whadya talkin' 'bout?”
I’m saying that now is not always,
It’s just now
And it leaves us:
It leaves us thinking that
That we’re old, so old and
We should have enjoyed every second of being young and electric.
But now is gone, today is night, tomorrow comes
And there we all go streaming for exits, for anything
We can get our minds around to escape the now.
We are fools, sensitive fools in fact.
I want to just tell you things are alright,
And do those things that make you happy
Those things that make you jump with glee
And come to honorable, dutiful attention
When it’s your time to put a smile
On your mama’s face.
You probably have very little patience for our struggles.
You just want us to be quiet
And enjoy the melody of your laugh
The stillness of your focus
The quiet acceptance of what’s next for the day.
I’m writing you a letter
Because I want to give you all of life’s lessons
In one tiny handful
Even though I give them scant notice
When today comes cursing at me
Telling me to move and get out!
Cars keep coming and deadlines keep whirring.
One day, I will hold out my hand
For you to cross into safety
And you might look up and say
I think you had it all the way.
Is what I would tell you one day.
In all that cacophony of
Playing with one toy resembling another,
You will remember a few isolated bits and pieces
Of what it was like to be a five year old
Always waiting for your mother’s helping hand and
Smiling at her turns, her dedicated turns.
And things always turn out alright
Is what you would tell us
If you knew how much we were struggling.
But we struggle to stay within our senses
And to feel sensitivity wave through.
We struggle to make a quiet dinner
When there’s nothing much to say
And then we wonder if the magic has left us.
We struggle to speak what’s on our mind
And what’s better left unsaid.
If I could tell you J, that wonders
Exist beyond you
Forever streaming along
Would you believe me,
Or would you tell me “Whadya talkin' 'bout?”
I’m saying that now is not always,
It’s just now
And it leaves us:
It leaves us thinking that
That we’re old, so old and
We should have enjoyed every second of being young and electric.
But now is gone, today is night, tomorrow comes
And there we all go streaming for exits, for anything
We can get our minds around to escape the now.
We are fools, sensitive fools in fact.
I want to just tell you things are alright,
And do those things that make you happy
Those things that make you jump with glee
And come to honorable, dutiful attention
When it’s your time to put a smile
On your mama’s face.
You probably have very little patience for our struggles.
You just want us to be quiet
And enjoy the melody of your laugh
The stillness of your focus
The quiet acceptance of what’s next for the day.
I’m writing you a letter
Because I want to give you all of life’s lessons
In one tiny handful
Even though I give them scant notice
When today comes cursing at me
Telling me to move and get out!
Cars keep coming and deadlines keep whirring.
One day, I will hold out my hand
For you to cross into safety
And you might look up and say
I think you had it all the way.
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