On Tippy-Toes

On Tippy Toes

There’s a game we children played some time ago,

When no Televisions existed barely even a small radio.

It kept us busy and out of the way of opposition as I remember,

Grown-ups talking sharing opinions embroiled as a burning ember.

We’d ease our way around the corners of each room,

Creating scary shadows and silenced laughter in the gloom.

But even upon small tippy toes each of us slid along the walls,

We didn’t move quick enough and soon we heard the calls.

“Can’t you see that we’re talking here so stop playing around,

Get yourselves into another room or outside on the ground.”

Shouted the old people sitting at the table made of chrome.

“You know we don’t like no noise from children in our home!”

It’s been decades that scene within me has been hiding,

Of me and my siblings on tippy toes across the floors sliding.

Those days of keeping quiet no sounds were to be made,

Has come to the forefront in this world we live in today.

It’s as if on tippy toes we must all balance or be chastised,

For living our faith, our life, whatever way I may decide.

Like in my childhood the shouting and slashing words are trumpeted,

Simply because my opinions are different contrary and not coveted.

In this day this world this time that we now live rightfully so,

Allowed speak one’s opinion or live contrary is grief to the status quo.

I refuse to walk on tippy toes in my world’s rooms anymore,

Simply because people try to put upon me their life that I abhor.

I don’t tippy-toe around topics that make people uncomfortable,

To do so would dissolve my life, my heart making me vulnerable.

Heretofore, on tippy toes I followed all the rules to the letter,

But now gray-headed, I stand flatfooted, straight-faced tossing my fetters.