Choices

 
 
 



I’m sure there are many exceptions,

but these days, choices, for the most part,

aren’t encouraged to go underground and be alone

with only their creativity and inventiveness to guide them.
 


Nor are they encouraged to make their own freedom,
 


so, of course, when I was a choice,

I had to go underground

in order to simply be,
 


and how much I loved knowing

that nothing could get into me,
 


that I could do whatever I wanted:

Make candles, look at a magazine, read a book, eat a snack, etc…

You know, the socially unacceptable things,
 


around which I would remember

the feeling of being loved by walls,

which I’m sure Frost can attest to,
 


isolated with only tiny, perishable friends to talk to,

except for this tiny opening to show me

just one way in, and one way out,
 


and I know, that doesn’t sound like freedom,

having always only one choice to choose from

all the time,
 


and you’d be right,

that in a lot of cases,

having only myself to choose from didn’t release me,
 


it wouldn’t be the first time

I’ve been labeled stubborn and problem-seeking

when it comes to meeting a self-importance need

through challenging authority,


simply because

other choices have already made their mind up about

what my personal history means,

before allowing me an opportunity to educate them,
 
to inform them


that the Hobbit I was

knew self-importance wasn’t the reason I stared at

that tiny, circular, open door,
 


I never wanted out of my hole,
 


but because, the unconditionally loving mud kitten I am,

I’ve only always hoped that

another choice, shadowed or not,

might simply show up before dark,

and ask to wiggle in.