Monday, June 6, 2022

Preaching to the Choir



















I can banter with the best

engage in mindless conversation;

smile, laugh, share all the tells

to fool a casual observer,

make believe that all is well

while fending my anxiety

for just a moment's company.

Yet silence echoes in my head

without shape or definition

through endless strings of empty days

in never-ending repetition.

Perhaps these walls that I have built

to guard a scarred and crippled heart

are now a cell of my creation,

and I am locked in solitude,

a prisoner of my own volition.

The map I follow is obsolete

and I am lost, without direction.

The landmarks that I thought I knew

have been replaced since their inception.

I plot a course and forge ahead

along a path that’s overgrown

my footfalls padding unknown trails.

Yet, the air is sweet, a warm wind blows,

and slow and steady stays the course…

 if nothing else this life has shown

  that I can make it on my own.

 

© GBrannan 2022

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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.