The Cure

Every day advertisements make their subtle demands:

“Buying will solve your fevered longing”

Every night movies work to convince me:

“Her love will heal the dark corners of your soul”

Yet each time I feel the morning sun on my face

or hold a kitten’s purring paw

or hear the laughter in my brother’s voice

I peel back the thin curtains of illusion

and fold the carefully market lies

into paper airplanes

to gently let go of

For thankfulness,

appreciation,

presence,

That is the real cure for what ails me.