I Listen

Originally Written Feb 2, 2022

It’s always a compliment.

"No one ever listens as well as you"

People spilling their stress and fears

and sweat and tears

into my loving arms

Where they know they'll face no harm

For what is more natural than wanting a break from the speed and hustle,

And have someone to slow you both down and let themselves listen.

Listen.

Just listen.

To let you let your feelings out til

You can't even shout anymore and they take it.

Sit, and take it. And you know they don't fake it

When they listen.

It's a strength of mine,

Ears and helping hands and a mind that will comfort just right

And a kind face. A warm embrace.

They sob and they know I will steady them as they go

No matter who you ask or how far in my past they all know how well

I listen.

It's a point of pride. When everyone I meet

Lays their trust at my feet and I nuture it and my orchard is full

Of the trust of others, their unstable beginnings taking root as I give them space to grow and support they need to do so

I listen.

I listen to fears and wants and needs,

Your mental health or how you stubbed your toe last week, I listen.

Your favorite show got renewed and all I can see is the brightness of you

And your smile and passiona and life and breath

I see the life in you as you fill my ears with your life, your life, your life, your life.

And it is beautiful.

"No one listens as well as you,"

So I suppose I simply make do with the mirror when I need to be listened to too.

When my thoughts are so tangled and body feels mangled I don't know what to do.

Or who to turn to.

For who out there can I trust to care and to listen as deeply as I?

When I throw my problems to the side to address yours because it's easier.

It makes me happier to see you grow than to make you see that I'm rotting in the process.

No need to make you upset.

Because I can turn to myself and while some days I don't, most I listen.

I listen.

It's a double edged sword, but my pen carries forward

The blank page more a comfort than any friend has been

Family too.

How can I tell you

That I want you to listen

But the feeling is foreign and it's not big deal I can talk about me later.

Because healing you's safer than seeing my wounds

I listen.

I see you attempt but it always comes down, our natural roles being so deeply ground to the floor they are tracks for our talks.

You take a step forward I sidestep and twirl and you would think I am on top of the world with how light my feet tread, not knowing the dread that this time you'll see through me won't someone see through me dear gods don't see through me til I'm dead.

So I'll stay here, in my dread. Of being caught being alive yet not able to thrive unless helping someone else instead. I stay because people care about me but my gods I don't know the depth. My feelings so deep they're unfathomable to me so how can anyone measure to that.

How could anyone listen as much or as well as me, to me? Whose care runs so deep every day I will weep until others are happy as I claim to be. I think I'm happy until I face the mirror and listen to myself speak. Who would listen to me, when they'd much rather hear that they can speak next and expect my ear to be hanging off every word. And it does.

I listen.