Normal is Overrated

when normal is as narrow

as a tightrope, we’re taught 

to fear the whispers of 

breezes, the presence of 

the earth, the feeling of 

fresh spring rains on our face

but who crafted, who sculpted

this fear and why is it ours

to hold, to cup in our hands

like some fragile being only

thriving when we allow it to?

if normal is as normal does, 

then how does a sliver reflect 

the range, a balancing act offer

the space to encompass joy

and love and exploration and 

that feeling of thinking in colors?

is normal not then found in 

the tumbles and the leaps

the way those moments steal

your breath and only return it

when you honor the demands

of the present through being?

when normal is as narrow

as a tightrope, it’s overrated

overvalued, overindulged, it’s 

granted disproportionate space

to a thin line that was never

that stable to begin with.