Friction

This poem reflects on one of the simplest yet most paradoxical forces in our lives.

Friction slows us, irritates us, binds us together, gives us footing, and even makes pleasure possible. The very thing that often feels like resistance is also what allows connection, movement, and sensation to exist at all.

Rather than trying to resolve that paradox, the poem lingers within it, inviting us to reconsider the forces we are often quickest to resist.

This poem arose from a fascination with how often the same force can appear in completely different forms.

We usually think of friction as something negative—an obstacle, an inconvenience, something that slows us down. But the more I reflected on it, the more I realized how much of life depends upon it.

Without friction, we couldn't walk.

Without friction, many things could never remain together.

Without friction, touch itself would lose much of its richness.

The poem intentionally moves through each of these expressions before arriving at a question rather than a conclusion.

“What then is the nature
Of this enigmatic force”

That question still feels alive to me.

Perhaps friction is neither friend nor enemy.

Perhaps it is simply one of the conditions through which life becomes possible.

Like many things in life, what determines whether friction feels painful or life-giving may depend less on its existence than on the relationship we have with it.

That possibility continues to intrigue me.