A defeated silence hangs over
our dinner, our walk, our going to bed.
I see that my words
have consumed me, storm-tossed,
And in a half-eaten way,
they have sustained me too,
Given me hope and goals.
Giving up the struggle
has left me hanging like a limp sail.
Was there only the one wind
driving me along?
While I stand still the days fly by
May into June, yet even they
are hardly more than words
that also end.
I like this. Heavy-duty reflection. My one thought in the last bit was that you're not standing still -- you're writing! That's one step forward.
ReplyDeleteYes. There are steps, but there's been such a vacuum that it literally feels like standing still. But I guess if you're going to change direction you have to stop first before you turn around and go the other way. I'm remembering your challenge when Ezra's book was done that it might be time now for my own writing. I love this blog disproportionately and maybe that's an indicator that I really do like to write. Thanks for reading it.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem!
ReplyDeleteThanks Wendy. I just re-read it almost a month later and I still like it. That's a good sign!
ReplyDelete