The Ways Of The Crab

Each quality mentioned is there in my heart,
It rings out of my soul in throbbing chants,
I feel them deeply, stroked by their presence,
but it is all trapped in my shell
the dome of distance where I hide,
where I retreat to reflect on life
or twist reality into a twine of thought.

Inside I bleed at a word,
nearly die from any criticism,
have skin so incredible sensitive
to the slightest prick of my being.

It drives me to want more for others,
thought I get wounded so deeply in the process
then when I hurt I can’t forget,
just move outward and away from the enemy,
no capacity to deal with those
who stab me at any point.

I will hold onto those I love forever,
give them every ounce of my spirit,
not ask anything in return,
yet weep alone when they don’t say thanks.

This is the way of the crab
hard on the outside
far to soft within,
never unwilling to help another heal,
even though I will not broadcast it
from the haven of my shelled existence.