the unmendables

regularly, daily, by the moment
and then again
must i re-release
the unmendables
the ununderstandables
the unrelationships
the unundones
from that which lingers
within my inner flows
of heart and mind

I re-untwist the way
they weave and braid
through my soul

these fibers
really aren’t undoable unravelable
they are to twined to my being
to who I am
to resist this is to unaccept
what is just so

so i learn to hold loosely the
compulsion to un the unnings
i open my grip
let them hold their own course
leave them as they are
embedded in who i am
they are now simply
a part of the myriad
from which I am made

to tug on the fibers of the uns
undoes me
unlives me

—

perhaps this is what John Middleton Murry meant when he said, “for a good man to realize that it is better to be whole than to be good is to enter on a strait and narrow path compared to which his previous rectitude was flowery license.”

perhaps? I still must think on this one because used as license, it seems flawed; used purely, it seems truth and sometimes even stumbled upon erroneously, it can mend.