Image: Created with the assistance of ChatGPT by OpenAI
Low Key
I’m just low-key kind of gal plotting my way
Through the grit & grime of planet of mud.
Can you see me in the glare of the sun?
Like a sister who is out of orbit,
My fire waffles in a kind of breeze.
I am still holding on by my fingernails.
My space may flood with melancholy
While love leaks out in tepid volumes.
Still, I remain low-key, don’t you see?
I keep on spinning calm but sure
In the whirlwind of desire and mystery.
I hide nothing and you get to see
All that I am, if you look with close eyes.
This zoo planet gives me the willies,
Walking, smelling the animals grow dark
In the back of my mind, where a lazy hum
Wants to click into place like a TV muttering
To itself in an empty room, or a keyboard clicking
In the silence of a voice that yearns to speak.
I park my carcass as I fidget and the itch flames
Around the edges of my skin, my brain.
The world is too loud for low-key folks.
We cover our ears with our own noise
That spells brain fog once in a while.
Staying home is not a lonely venture—
It is a burning need keeping me sane.
I wonder through my own halls
Keeping busy with inner turmoil
Allowing the bright light of silence
To cool my heels and answer the questions
That break the weak and flummox
The fakery of mold-stench buffoons.
I stay home because that’s where I live.
Summer breezes cool the flowers outside my window.
Winter winds chill into frost on the blades of grass.
Spring rains water the beauty of new buds again
And fall leaves submit their pages to the flower beds.
My sedate nature comes to fold her hands as I pray
To the Father in Heaven Most High
To let me be what I can become
In the glory of finding out
How to become perfectly still.
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