The Rule Book

I used to believe
That my rule book would keep me safe
And when things got bad
I would grip it tighter

Knuckles white,
Shoulders tensed,
Don’t. Let. Go.

And when things were painful,
I would write more rules

#737 Never call a friend more than twice before they call back.

And then somewhere along the way
In the messiness of life
I broke the rules and tasted the freedom of rule-book-less living.

I danced in the streets and things got better.

I thought I was totally free but then realized there was more.

 

I want to be free
The birds don’t carry around rule books,
They’d never make it off the ground.

So I’ve spent the last year editing,
Going back,
Finding what I’ve written,
Changing clauses,
Crossing out.

I don’t remember half of what’s in the book,
Or why it’s there.

And as I learn to relax my shoulders, my neck and jaw,
The rules begin to fall right off the pages.

As I learn how to dance,
Some pages fall right out.

And as I learn how to live,
I find a knowing that one day the entire book will drop.