Safe

A sheet of dark
wraps around the heart,
slip knotted anger
keeps it snug.
We like the fit
of things that hold us
swaddled like
our early infant days,
never outgrow our
desire for the safety
of the known
and thus
we stay where love has died
or pain has grown or
disappointment breeds the twins of
self and other loathing
or
we let dark resentments build
because
courage
cannot be summoned
from within
the heart
cradled in the familiar.