Again, I defy my own label and present a less snarky post. I want to explain in my terms what it’s like to have the emotional sensitivity of an anemone. In a poem!! I wrote a poem. Lord help us.
Yeats’ poem “Earth, Fire, and Water” reads:
We can make our minds so still like water
that beings gather around us, that they
may see their own images, and so live for
a moment with a clearer perhaps even a
fiercer life because of our quiet.
I am reflective, but not at all like still water.