She sat at the end of my bed,
Grinning from side to side.
Stop warring with yourself, she said.
A little put-out, I sat up.
There she was, tiny and shiny,
Her little wings were fluttering with excitement.
“You’d be ok if you’d just stop warring with yourself”, she said.
“Every day, she continued, you get the drill out and
Start boring holes in your head. It’s like a hobby.”
Though unsure if I was dreaming, a little taken aback,
I listened and gazed at this fragile little angel who seemed to want to boss me around.
“Stop warring with yourself!” she said.
As my thoughts turned in on themselves and saw the many daily battlefields, I began to cry.
I don’t know how, I said, I’m so used to it now,
I continued.
“Oh”, she replied, “that’s easy.
Throw out the drill, find your heart and sit in it.
Every time you find yourself looking for the drill,
Find love in your heart and sit in it.
It’ll take a little getting used to and you’ll have to
Keep throwing away the drill.
“Stop warring with yourself!” she said,
Her frail body fading, until all I could see, was a little
Feather on my bedsheet.
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