On a very dark and desolate night

When no other creatures

Would venture out into such despair,

Gratitude finds her way through

Shadowy murkiness and obscurity

and knocks at the locked, rusty door

Of Victim’s house.

Knock, knock, knock.

“May I come in?” Gratitude asks.

She persists,

Knocking and waiting—

Knock, knock, knock.

Victim hears the intrusive interruption.

She is afraid.

Indeed, the knocking seems

Incessant, tireless and annoying,

Even judgmental in its persistence.

Gratitude calls out,

“Let me in. I am your faithful friend,”

but her words sound perverted;

to Victim they translate as

judgmental and imposing.

Knock, knock, knock,

Gentle and consistent

Gratitude continues in

Her modest visitation.

Fed up and overwhelmed

With stubborn self-will,

Victim rushes to the door,

Opens it and screams,

“Why do you torture me

with your trash talk?

Why don’t you go away

And leave me in peace?!”

Diatribes explode through her lips,

As poisonous arrows split the air.

At last, in the exasperated silence

There is space and time.

Gratitude quietly speaks. Continue reading