the other side of it (a poem)

Monday, November 17, 2025

we’re already there,
on the other side,
where neighbor slips into nuisance
and the air between us
feels thinner than it should.

the breakdown shows in small ways,
the shrinking sense
that we owe each other anything.
am i his keeper?
the question hangs,
unanswered,
uncomfortable.

and it isn’t for policy,
or for anyone’s favor.
it’s for the people we actually live beside,
the ones whose names we know,
even when we pretend we don’t.
trying to move forward
without feeding the hate machine,
that’s the part that still matters.

not giving in
is harder than anyone says.
exhaustion creeps,
soft-footed,
asking us to quit caring
because it would be easier.

i’m both cain and abel,
schrödinger’s citizen,
capable of building something
for all of us
or quietly shifting it
toward myself.
some days i can’t tell which is which.

raise an offering
or a rock.
that’s the split in me,
in anyone, probably.
one hand opens,
one hand tightens.

the choice isn’t dramatic.
it’s quiet,
almost invisible.
just deciding,
in the moment,
which hand i let fall open.