I’m on a road that I’ve not travelled in such a long, long time
the signs are unfamiliar, my map is obsolete
feeling apprehension with each new turn and bend
not sure if I’ll ever get back home again.
Not getting any younger, but sometimes I pretend
wallowing in darkness just isn’t who I am
yet I can feel the shadows on the periphery
wondering, as always, if they come for me.
So I paint my pretty pictures of all the things I do
omitting how the quiet times, the emptiness, accrues–
for others like it better when we hide our broken parts
cover up the ugly scars, the trauma to our hearts.
So should you search the subterfuge looking for a sign
picking through the boneyard of the words I leave behind
perhaps another traveler just searching for their home,
take comfort in the knowledge that you are not alone
© Ginny Brannan 2024
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.