may 17

an old poem/letter found whilst unpacking

(written on may 17, year unknown)

on my desk is a small stress ball, and
my left hand kneads at it while
i look out at the 45 degree rain and
frantic movements of window wipers.

i am thinking of
your declaration of friendship and
both the pain and the joy of that gift.
about how i feel i know you so well and yet
don’t know you at all. how
the darker side of me clutches at a fear
i am smothering you and thinks, irritated,
that it sometimes feels like just


however the softer side of me
feels grateful
and acknowledges
that i feel closer to you
than any one other friend
i’ve ever known.

you wear me out
you lift me up
i am afraid of
– not keeping up with you
– not matching your aspirations.

and yet…
i know there is nothing to do
no-one to be,
just me.

you make me a better person, and
a thousand other clichés.
i look forward to continuing to be


april is NaPoWriMo (national poetry writing month) and I really like what Catherine has written about what she sees as problems surrounding this concept.