As They Should Be...

The waters are still -- as they should be
Yet, beneath the surface of my composed, sophisticated shell of a person,
with snobby master's degree and years of corporate 9-to-5 under my belt and all,
is an ever-present, primal urge to violently stir up the stillness;
to see motion purely for the sake of feeling the semblance
that something is happening
A high and heavy leap off the diving board, knees tucked, eyes shut
in anticipation of seismic waves to rock the pool
The ironic thrill of discomfort punching the gut
as the rickety train plummets downward
Unanimous claims of feeling the most alive
when witnessing movement

But now I see
You for you on still afternoons
Sprawled across the sofa
Holy sweatpants, the same dear ones from high school
Uncivilized crumbs on the collar of a stained tee
My soft words easily deflected
by the silent chambers of your daydreams
An all-surrendered savasana that is finally unfolded into
You for you, as you should be

So for once, I sit still
Like an old, gray man
And let all my life remain,
As it is

Then the waters still,
And for once everything is suddenly clear
As they should be