concentric circles or: “we have you surrounded”

we all begin as a page. blank.

upon which we write & are written upon

with varying degrees of success

we draw, paint, tear, dye, fold

cut, shape, layer, hide our page

as we see fit, which is as it should be.

but sometimes we are given news

which wipes all that has gone

before away

& our page is again. blank.

startlingly, shockingly so.

violently. starkly. blindingly. blank.

we must somehow start again.

& so …

a small dot centres the blank page

inside a name, your name

a small name, in opposition to your big heart

but a name, in the eye of the storm

surrounded by other circles

in the first, tight intimate circle,

children, family, your closest friend

your bestie, BFF, kindred spirit

maybe a minister if that’s your bent

the next circle, slightly roomier

less claustrophobic, good friends

family you do more than endure

at christmas time & weddings

the odd work mate you care about

larger circles surround this, filled

with names which have less emotional

attachment, colleagues, neighbours,

your child’s friend’s parent who drives you

batty but you tolerate, for your child’s sake

the final circle — or if you prefer

the first of the never-ending ones

holds Facebook friends, telemarketers

strangers, shop attendants, folks

sitting next to you on the bus, that guy

from masterchef you’d love to meet,

your parole officer, ex lovers, local MP

et cetera. even me.

the rule is: comfort in, dump out

always: comfort in, dump out

anytime you need … to talk. a hand.

to complain. a cry. be angry. be afraid.

grieve, vent, confess … or just sit next to in silence

anything. you just have to ask. any of those people

don’t worry about us. we have our own circles.

we’ll find a way to dump out too

right now — the most important one is you

 

Gareth Roi Jones

This is a writing post

concentric circles or: “we have you surrounded”

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