to make right again

if i could, very well, be courageous
if i could, very well, be brave
i might avoid face-down sighing
at the end of a suffering day

My room is a mess: completely and utterly.  There are unwashed dishes left from before the weekend.  There are boxes of receipts and paperwork that came out for taxes but never got put away.  There is my duffle bag shoved to the side of my bed, yet unpacked from Arrowhead.  There are little trash cans overflowing with rubbish.  There are articles of clothing all over my littleblackcouch and empty hangers wondering why I'm not using them when, clearly, they are needed.

It is friendly.  Why...?  Because I am sitting here, in a someplace where the remedy is simple and I know that I can help.  And thus, this waiting mess becomes a comfort as it  lies before me as one thing that cannot get much worse and has the hope of "better".  All it needs is a little attention.

Other messes are not so simple.  Their betterment is not cookie-cutter-true.  They are difficult and angry and pushy.  They are unrelenting and follow you home from school taunting you with "neener-neener-neener"s.  

Tonight, my mess of a room is a friend.  At the end of a messier day than the last, this mess knows that I will be able to make it right again.

{photograph:  sometimes you have to let it go}

© kimberly k taylor