Posts Tagged ‘present’

I wish I could get away

from all the distress,

all the pressure,

all the uncertainty.

I wish I had the means to

simply leave

and find a quiet place

where I could stop and look,

not think, just observe,

leaving all familiar faces behind me.

I wish I could find a place

where I wouldn’t have to worry

about being found

because I wouldn’t be lost, anyway.

I just want to find a place

where I have no past

and no future

to worry about.

Today’s date

attached to four names

I don’t recognize.

And I wonder

about names

attached to headstones,

about futures

attached to children

along with memories.

And these are people

who will only be remembered if

they fall under these circumstances-

if they had children,

if they are a character in someone’s story.

We remember historical figures

and celebrities

because of their national renown,

but who remembers

the little people

with their names printed

small

in newsprint?

Gulls are Harbingers-

as much as Robins, yet,

not appreciated as part

of Spring’s welcoming Quartet.

Once I cried from my powder blue room

my wails rising from my crib

like awful birds- beaks targeting ears

at which to peck.

 

Once I reached inside myself

and found the nerve to kick off the training wheels

and form my own path, unencumbered.

 

Once I found myself in a four square court

and the ball bounced between me

and people who introduced themselves

as they held that yellow rubber sphere.

 

Once I looked at the monochrome clock

that crouched, always in the same place,

on the mocha-brown walls of a building

that always smelled of new shoes and Lysol.

 

Once I found myself in a room-

painted a darker blue, the same

room where that doll-sized impression of myself

used its voice to rouse people from slumber.

Now I can use my voice to do the same,

but in spite of everything,

I take my own initiative

and set forth, out of the crib, onto the street, into the halls

on my own.

“It’s almost impossible to let someone go when you know they’re not in the past; they’re alive, you’re alive, and you’re both living in the same present- just not always in the same place.”- Original

You can’t forget that they’re there.

Holy, or demonic,

there is something–

unnerving

about this era

where we scrawl with plastics

and come out of hospitals

either black or white.

We fumble with strands of time,

we press our noses to glass,

we walk and take nothing in,

or ride in stomachs of beasts of our own designs.

But where are we going?

Do we go to the great chapel,

see brown and gray stone marvels,

or do we put ourselves behind

unfeeling, glass, metal, and rubber?

Do we fly?

Are we imprisoned in boxes

before our eyes?

Do we ask why?

Are we all ill or in pain

and do not realize?

We take only one side.

Holy or demonic–

those must be our intentions

as we come,

black or white,

sanitized

or dead,

out of hospitals.