Some Way to Detach

I am struck by my tendency to start poems with

"I" or "you" or something self-conscious or other

and the ego, always the ego

sculpting worlds small enough to post on spindles

just to whirl them around our fingers

and look how far we've traveled

look how much we know

surely there is some way to detach

I make things too personal and I forget

that seasons turn and death sweeps in like autumn

surely there is some way to remember

that fabricated spirituality is only a distraction

from the God glowing in each of our skins

and we can only find it when we hold each other's hands

but really hold them, and listen

to the way our pulses harmonize

but it takes time, time

and a constant reminder 

and most days I cultivate my cynicism with pride and care

mouth dripping with venom, surveying everything

like I am about to buy or sell it

I should not be this narrow

surely there is some way to detach

I make things too personal and I forget

that tides go out and continents shift over time

surely there is some way to remember

that I am not my failure

that you are not my disapproval of you

I am so tired of forgetting how

we are all holy light

draped in fear's clothing but still pulsing underneath

still patient and brave and untempered

surely there is some way

to learn that

again