Another Kind of Work

I am a ghost-person. a non-being
I exist as wind in sails and gas in engines
I am paid in thanks
and lessons
I am carving out a place in my heart
to live in.

My lack of expectation
draws others nearer
but the closer they get, the further I feel
the further I feel, the more right it seems
til I am more at home sketching out plans for dreams
than being

my mind
tells me I can have it all
but that’s not the case-
my mind
separates me from peace,
my heart makes it worse.

some people are eaves and chutes,
some people are walls and earth;
I am the metal you place on the roof-
my job is the best, and also the worst

to absorb the charge
and divert it-
what could be more
worth it

(who lied
and told me I deserved
any other
kind of
work)