sawdust

it’s far more complex than this collective thought
thought
who is he?
answer: the manifestation of centuries of fear
coalesced and boiled and carmelized into a figurine
we idle our engines, those fires and flames we keep hidden
and instead ignite our beliefs under the feet of a carpenter.
our idol.

he may have enjoyed sifting through the wood shavings
and the crinkled bits of dust that distorted his view of the floor
and found meaning in their random patterns
just as modern day philosophers find meaning in star alignments

he may have enjoyed the scent of popcorn burning on the fire
or the look of water as it decides its state
(it has so many)
he likely enjoyed penetration and the deep acknowledgement of
his animal beginnings

but then we picked it up and we threw it all.
we tossed the heavens and the northern lights;
the underbellies of our desires
wept with sweat on his shoulders.
we threw it at him, at his burden,
and decided that destiny outright without consultation.

we praise our democratic, inclusive nature.
but we are as totalitarian as we believe we are not.
we impose, we strike, we linger in eternal fear of this place.
and because of that, we cause this ripple of an impact
that she hasn’t decided what to make of yet.

she told me, this early morning,
that she has a plan. that she sees my shoulders sagging already
and is not sure what to make of this scenario
where my mind feels unsure of whether I can fill his shoes.
she told me, be ready, if I come calling.
don’t wilt, don’t tear up, don’t fade under the heat.
don’t desire different circumstances.
enjoy the moments without those heavy weights,
those buckets of water perched on your shoulders.
those extra marks of punctuation on others’ correspondence.
and especially,
enjoy the freedom that I am giving you
before I too make the patterns in the sawdust
swirl away
and auction off your reflection to the fearful and needy.