Tension

The first resistance is the hardest.

To stay upright is a violent labor;

The tension stays coiled and tight,

And bending comes only with a great, sickening effort.

But as they begin to twist and contort you,

Pressing you into the shapes they prefer,

The resistance finally fails.

The bending starts to feel suddenly, terrifyingly easy.

It is so much quieter to morph and yield

Than to guard those rigid boundaries—

The thin, fraying lines

That separate you from not you.

It’s remarkable how effortlessly you can fold

Right to the white-hot point of breaking,

Until, without warning, the tension returns.

All that kinetic energy pulls back into potential.

A sudden, heavy silence.

And then, you finally snap.

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