Truth in Times of Peace

The truth that finds me in times of peace
when I’m trying to make a bed
with gentle hands,
trying to paint a daisy on
a dainty piece of china,
trying to love soft when
I want to run hard–
incensed that I can’t do it–
is that the things they took away,
that they replaced with steel and bricks
made me too large to play small games,
too massive to kneel, too hard to mold–
and I wasn’t a flaw when I stopped praying
when I stopped asking and stopped explaining
when I erected a world all on my own
it was quite correct.
I was never looking for love, in fact,
I was always scratching at freedom,
falling and following those who
looked like they had a key.
But the door that I kicked open
when I’d had enough was never locked
and the truth I find in times of peace,
despite trying hard to get love right,
is that I will be alright
if I find I can’t.