when it's tough, you're strong,
flexing egotistical brawn against the world,
the belief that keeps brick walls
behind closed doors, keeps burning crosses
from building themselves on your lawn--
when it's tough, you're stone,
formed over thousands of years of churning:
hard as granite, old as the pacific rim,
yet flaking off in minute minutes
like sandstone, grit in someone's teeth.
when it's easy you must
relearn to live, learn to relive
the good you have, to trust in sunshine
and other people's smiles; to toss
and catch the same good mood.
when it's easy you turn
to lie on your back on grassy lawns
and bathe in stars that don't shine when
your mouth is blurred with slime--
you can breathe mouth open lungs wide now.
and when it gets hard again
you've rolled on beaches, collected sand,
gathered grit to condense into
rock hard ego, granite confidence,
unwavering and unshielded memories
of what it was like when your lungs were full.