dynamics are tough to navigate
especially when they remind you,
“we’re family”–

when it’s convenient for them
when it works for everyone but you

so, you become a yogi,
nay, a guru,
whose flexibility around all you bend to meet everyone else’s will

Because “we’re family” morphs from a sweet sentiment
to a burdensome obligation
that you were somehow expected to shoulder
expected to acquiesce
expected to expect

And when you decline,
when you move from the painful, delicate balance of crow pose
to soften your breath in the firm, restorative tree pose–
feet firmly planted, hands over your heart, breath decompressing, slow,
they race to cut you down 
to buck and split as firewood to keep them warm
in the urgent cold that you did not create
but they demand you protect them from the elements
of their predictably unpredictable nature.

And you will your roots to dig deeper into the healing earth
while they chop with dull axes,
long-lost sharpness from years of repeated misuse
and strengthen your resolve
reminding them that you believe they’ll see and understand

Because you’re expected to
and now you expect nothing:

“We’re family.”