Jaiden

You take a sip of pop and cringe as the fizz hits the back of your throat.  
Once in a while you get the urge to try something new. Something spicy.  
 
You brace yourself for the extraordinary,  
prepare your palate for a new texture,  
whether it be grit or mush.  
Whole or crushed.  
You sidestep and linger,  
fingering the food on your plate.  
You stab it with a fork—a million times
and linger some more.  
It's the fear of the unknown.  
It’s the weight of the challenge.  
 
I've tried to push you to discover all that’s available in this world.  
To grab your hand and guide you  
even though you weren’t steady.  
There were no signals to paint your readiness.
No manual with pictures  
to show me what makes you retract.  
Your apprehension;  
the unease that burden has written up.  
You fight me when you’re affrighted.  
Spite me when you’re embarrassed.  
You linger
before taking that step again.  
When the emotions are settled—  
or you’ve forgotten
 
Maybe one day you’ll surprise me.  
Maybe you won’t.  
 
When feeling safe is an asphyxiating boundary,  
are you really protected?
Or are the thoughts inside you churning?
Are they stagnant?  
Wilted?  
Dark?
 
When the boundary line is dense,  
the grace for the living grows shallow.  
No new experiences to paint a portrait.  
Heck, we haven’t even erected the easel.  
 
Where nature is garish and communication with the living robs waves that can be spent in a fetter.  
In the dark.  
You never smile.  
You never laugh.  
You wall yourself up in that shadowy room  
living life in a fantasy world.  
With a box  
and some pixels.  
No light peeking through the curtains.
Splayed out in a chair.  
No exercise to release restless legs.  
 
Come outside Jaiden.  
Try this new dish.  
Let the sun in your mouth  
and absorb the orb laced of saffron.  
Parallel your breath with the wind.  
Sample the textures and the perfume of the flowers.  
And why not try something spicy.  
Feel the energy beneath your feet,  
in the grass  
with the bugs—  
and no shoes.  
Feel the grit of the sand
and the mush of the mud.  
And if you come out tonight,  
I’ll salt your plate with a million stars.  
 
I know you’re not there yet—  
but you’ll get there.  
One flavour at a time.