This is a first draft.. Just wanted to post it right away in case it might
help someone deal with the Narcissist family member during the Holidays.
peace
Grace
Withstanding
Arrive frazzled, disparate, a city of conflicting urges
A rush hour of agitation, a white knuckled grip
on some slim hope of peace
Your lover has been waiting, patiently, exhultant to see you
a hug of returning home, but it’s as if you can’t quite
feel him, his smile some tropical paradise you can’t quite enter
So you smile quickly and say, “I’m not here yet,
Let me calm down.” But after a warm bath, chocolates,
and a massage, you can’t quite make it
You are left out of the world of beauty and warmth
So you hold on, hold on to your lovers strong hug
and you lie on your back like the infant you feel
and you let yourself shake the abuse away, with a twisted face
shout, “Stop killing me.” “How can you attack me when my heart is open.”
“How can you humiliate me, insult me, denigrate me.”
You are yelling at the person you used to call Dad
the person who still laughs at you. The old person you care for.
But your lover sees your despair, the deep ground-in torment
and unleashes a torrent of sweet tears, weeping
for how the worst dad… “The worst father I’ve ever heard of.”
He says, mourning the moments, days and weeks
He stayed alone in their empty house,
hoping her father would appreciate their sacrifice,
and knowing now that the father values no one.
So you and your lover hold onto each others hearts
weeping for the time you’ve wasted being apart,
the time lost, the months of loneliness
and all for nothing. And you know your lonely partner
Lights up with your presence, and your father waits
to suck all the life out of you, then call you a loser.
While he tells you how lovely his girlfriend is, how classy
his string quartet friends are, how nice the gardener is
but never says anything nice about you.
It’s a hatred of his own blood, a complete rejection of his own,
the ball and chain of family life, those who need him
he has revulsion for. But he says
“Everyone needs me,” Proud that he is so popular
and his students call him “Mr.” And he feels he is a Mister.
He would rather be a Mister than a father or husband.
But his best friend lies dying, and he goes to visit
Just to watch. To catalog the event, and never bothers to say,
“It’s been a swell fifty-five years of friendship, pal.” No brief word or touch
and back at home he says, “well the closet is closing,”
and I think he means his friend will die soon,
but he says, “I guess I don’t have much time left.”
Did he ever have any time at all? Doesn’t a heartless
life of success with no feeling, leave one
feeling nothing ever happened? One big empty nothing?
You know that the moments you’ve opened your heart,
said nice things to him, to be close, to share,
and you wait with open arms for him to notice you, or say something nice
and those minutes stretch into thousands of years
time escalating, the unmet unloved minutes stretching
into tears that fall and fall for miles.
The waiting heart has no deadline. We will wait forever,
hoping the person we love will love us back.
We cannot give up, let them remain stick figures in their own small world.
We cannot turn away. We suffer for them to join us.
We try to believe their rejection of their own heart
is not a rejection of us.
We ask God to help us not hate them back.
We ask God to forgive us when our arms want to strangle
those whose land is a humiliating abyss.
We are fighting a war, alone, in our small back yards.
it is a war of one heart against their belief
That the whole world is ugly and humans are selfish assholes.
We hold up one white flag of peace, after another
and they take them and break each stick in half
and say, “You fool. You believe in that!”
So the little flag of peace becomes wet with tears
it droops as I raise it. Then the flags become red,
red with the beating blood of our abandoned hearts.
And they say, “Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve,
You pansy wimp innocent incompetent loser.
Toughen up. Life is war.”
But you keep your heart stuck up on that small red flag.
It waves in the wind, and withstands blizzards of criticism,
and after years and years it is tattered
but to take it down would mean defeat…
and you know, turning the other cheek doesn’t mean
you let them beat the shit out of you over and over.
But you know, if you take your red flag down
and pretend to not care anymore
he will win. He will say, “You too could never love.
you are just like me. A selfish asshole.
All you can do is run with your flag to the love cleaners
to your lover who caresses it’s tattered holes
who sees your frayed edges and smiles because your soul is so large.
You run to him and he gives you the courage to go back. To love some more.
but he cries because your soul is free but your body is turning to stone.
He is your salvation, your window, you know God still exists.
His eyes are galaxies, your heart expands, your muscles take off their armor.
You relax in the reprieve, the oasis, and together you smile, dance and cry.
This is the birth of souls. This is the quiet withstanding Gurdjieff recommends.
Keep loving those who are most difficult. It is their only chance.
You are their only hope. And you are expanding your love, and God
Is crying, and clapping. Your attempts never lose, your successes
are in Heaven. Each time you open a little hand, to give your self
whole gardens bloom. You will see them. Your love is the fertilizer of Heaven.
