It is not their fault
they never knew but
these days I am struck by
how uncurious they were.
What it was like.
How it took over and did harm.
That our friendship meant nothing.
That they passed judgement with
a standard that they would not
hold themselves to.
They cast the first stone and I returned a few.
I know that now and draw a line underneath it all,
moving on, letting go – no longer looking
for fish tracks in a dry riverbed*.
Too often, the wave of the past
had pulled me under, finding
myself without a life jacket^.
I tell myself to allow the experience
to sit still, as it is, knowing it is not possible
to make a hole in wet mud.
© 2021 Copyright Rick Frame
^ Inspired by a talk from Kaira Jewel Lingo who used this metaphor