Ambivalent

  

ambivalent – having mixed feelings about someone or something; being unable to choose between two (usually opposing) courses of action. Psychology: of or pertaining to the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.

       

        This is new for me.

Wildly surprising, (and dare I say it?) uncomfortable.

Ambivalent.

A noncommittal, seemingly harmless sort of stance.

We (my ambivalence and I) and our continuing on with each day’s requirements

         Passable, unexceptionable, unobjectionable, even admissible for all appearances.

But this new guest of mine – we’ll call her ambivalence –

Reveals a quiet and unexpected rebellion.

Ambivalence, for all appearances,

Suggests there’s no fight left – or at least not an imminent one.

That though there’s not been an all out surrender,

There’s at least no implication of overt aggression.

But perhaps this is more destructive?

This subtle refusal,

This aloof, stand offish, arm’s length posture

Feels to be sensibility dulling.

Is it really just disabling movement towards would-be forgiveness?

Really just circumventing reconciliation?

Is ambivalence just a sophisticated (and therefore more heinous)

Strain of wishy-washy?

Perpetuating discord by standing by,

Content/resigned to watching disunity’s cords unravel,

unchecked, un-shored up, 

In waiting for someone else to dispel the damage?

Or is ambivalence a safety net:

A temporary hostel,

A safer reparative place to refresh, regroup, repack one’s meager but comforting belongings back to a 

                   usable, commodious form?

Heretofore in a constant state of flux, 

Tumbled to and fro by the waves of others’ assessments,            

This ambivalence is something of a relief.

A salve over so many wounds. 

And perhaps… 

Perhaps it doesn’t necessarily have to result in bitterness or stagnation, but

Percolation.

Without it, the flavor – my quality – would be watered down, untrue to its intended form’s potential, weak, 

                 unpalatable.

Waiting here – steeping in this weird middle ground of unknowing and imposed indecision (like a chess 

                  match, your most recent move finds me here)                                                                                   

I’d feared I’d diminish.

But maybe ambivalence is really just knowing-in-waiting.

Waiting and watching for the next best move to be revealed.

         

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