What Kind of Life Has It Been

Jenga

You said it first.
That I was Jenga, and you all were building up my ego one block at a time.
But the joke on me was that you did it by pulling blocks out from the middle.
I get it now.
From the middle, a bit of humility,
On top, a feeling that I’m loved.
From the bottom, a moral I’d never turn from,
On top, a feeling of acceptance.
From the middle, a close friend I’ve always loved,
On top, being in the us, and not the them.
What will be the block that makes the tower fall?
True love is still there, alone on the bottom layer.
Kindness looks like it might come out OK.
Or maybe I’ve reached the point where, given time, wind, and breath,
I’ll just collapse on my own.
Nobody’s fault but my own.
Blocks strewn across the table.