Every time I hose down the fire,
I turn around to find you throwing gasoline into the embers. Then, you point your finger at me for not being able to completely put out the fire.
You sit back waiting, watching the flames go up
As if I’m obligated to put out the fire,
The fire that you started.
For months, you throw a stick to keep the fire going
as I try to trim down the flames that should not have gone up in the first place.
The summer time grass was fine and green.
When it turned brown, that confused you?
It’s common sense: fall is approaching, the grass changes.
It shouldn’t affect you personally.
It’s life.
But, you felt insecure and wanted to save the ‘old’ grass, a beautiful cushion embedded with daffodils,
slowly dries out to prickly hairs
that will become a fresher patch of rich green color in the spring.
Did you not know?
If not, why didn’t you just ask?
Instead, you decide there’s a problem you have to ‘fix,’
resulting in somehow sparking a flame in the grass using the perfectly wrong tool to ‘fix’ it.
Lighter + grass= not such a good idea.
Bottom line, the grass was fine
it just goes through its process,
naturally going through life.
Why entangle yourself in something when you shouldn’t?
You did.
No, I don’t have control over the choices you make
because they are yours.
I never told you to light the grass on fire in order to ‘fix’ it
to fix something that never needed to be fixed.
That’s life.
Why tamper with nature?
You have your own life as well
Don’t live it through the patch of grass you’ve been so focused on ‘fixing.’
Bottom line, nothing was wrong between you and the grass.
Otherwise, that doesn’t make sense.
Almost a year, I’m done.
Fire=bad, can’t take the hint?
Even after that’s been made clear to you,
Having been repeated
over and over again.
When I can finally settle down the flames,
Sweating, smoldered in smoke
I remove myself from the blackened patch
That had no problem except the way you reacted to it.
From there, the grass could then be stripped
And refurnished into newly embedded grass
Perhaps artificial at first
Like an untouched carpet
Instead of naturally replenishing through the next summer,
But rather flourishing through the next summer as a brand new patch of grass
as if the ‘old,’ beautiful grass,
before it lit up in flames,
is still what it is.
Behind me though remained a small ember left in the patch that I wasn’t aware of
The dampness of the grass could have drowned that out,
But with the tin of gasoline in our hand
You still pour it,
Pointing you finger at me for the fifth or sixth time.
Yes, doing that would most likely make you look stupid.
On that note,
Fire=bad, can’t take the hint?
Even after that’s been made clear to you,
Having been repeated
over and over again.
I have called the fire department to step in and take over
While you pursue me to take the role as the firefighter again
So I could continue putting down the flame,
The flame you continue to salvage.
I don’t want to take the role.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.
If that means I lied, okay,
I lied to spare your feelings.
I thought you had the common sense to know that this is your fire,
You started the fire,
You salvaged it,
You named it,
You want it watered down by me.
I have my own life,
You can’t carry me in the basket weaved by the ‘old’ grass you’ve longed to ‘fix.’
To ‘fix’ something where there is no problem,
Unless you stop salvaging the flames
So go ahead, the hose is right there.
Put down the flames yourself.
Even after removing myself from the area where the patch of grass was,
The lingering feeling of needing to stay by,
To make sure the fire is gone.
I’ve pleaded that I’m done.
I have not wanted to say no so I wouldn’t hurt your feelings
But no matter what I did or didn’t say,
Common sense or no common sense,
All the bottom lines clearly drawn,
I can see the light of the flames from the corner of my eye.
I have no control over the fire,
And yet, I’m still expected to bring the hose,
The hose that you can choose to bring.
Everyone tells me to step down from the role,
I listen to them,
But the lingering feeling,
Knowing that someone’s still salvaging a fire,
A fire I’ve never had control over,
So specifically, I, would return to put it out.
Even after everything has been made clear,
All out in open,
That person still chooses to ‘fix’ the grass…
Help.