I feel the weight, the ache
of a hundred living souls
resonating within me...
Their empty eyes stare, while crackled voices
share tales of years gone by, yet still
can't recall the “whens “or “whys”
of how they got there.
of how they got there.
* * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I am no seer, but
I know what the future holds…
If you are lucky, you’ll find contentment somewhere
in that space, that place between past and present.
Or
You'll remember your yesterdays with perfect clarity
while locked in a body that no longer does your bidding.
(We will not speak of
“Door Number Three”
for it holds a tale a
different kind;
of loneliness and chronic pain;
and diseases that destroy the mind.)
and diseases that destroy the mind.)
* * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * *
There are days this weight feels amplified,
an electrical current crawling ‘cross my skin.
Struggling to keep the calm and status quo
I cry inside for all their ‘might have beens.’
© Ginny Brannan 2016
