How hard the fight for gains,
wading through mire,
battling the blurred words,
crumbling beneath the crushing pressure.
Surrender.
Another day, perhaps a gain
of minutes of wellness.
Don’t over-do when the body is able
to accommodate desire to do more than
an errand or two before succumbing.
Daily battles.
How goes the war?
I cannot fathom a positive outcome any more.
A few words more
fingers flicking over keys.
A few words more
a story unwinds
A few words more
before my head explodes
Small successes form
between the creases in my brows.
I will write a few words more,
to force recovery, word by
blurry, painful word.
Snow is falling by the window:
down,
slanted,
sideways,
sparsely,
heavily,
quickly,
slowly.
Everything is possible;
you don’t need to know.
Just rest at the window,
watch the snow.
When was the moment
that ‘we’ broke apart?
Or did it just wear away?
All those things in common,
yet nothing holds together.
I rocked you in my arms
dreamed of all you’d be.
Never did I imagine you’d be
without me.
Why did you turn away?
We gave you space to grow
and now we don’t know
if loneliness is the price we pay,
when children make their way,
break their way,
wear away.
The football is set, with enthusiastic support,
This is going to be such a great help!
But instead of the football being held at the perfect angle for the kick that sends it through the goal posts,
Lucy has snatched it up again. She shrugs.
You wanted to kick for THIS game?
Oh no! The game you get to kick for is three months from now!
Just hold your foot up until then, will you?
This time
I’m walking forward and you are beside me,
four paws padding along,
wet nose nudging my palm now and again,
assuring me you’re there.
This time
I waken to the whining cries
of someone small who is not you,
blessed and depressed.
Time tricks,
I see your silhouette,
hear a gentle woof on the wind,
look around knowing it’s not,
wishing it was.
Now, time
reminds me that life is a tapesty.
Joys are woven in the warp;
we weave grief in the weft,
dark streaks that might be tears,
alongside the lemon-bright thread of laughter.
This time,
I’m grateful to wrap myself tight
in the memories of you. Grateful
as I go about another day.
Let no further discussion
mar your sense of certainty.
Let no logic stir irrationality,
challenge responsibility,
force mutability.
Enough!
Sine pace.
Fix this!
You have to pour paint
over your transparency,
if you want to be visible.
It couldn’t quite be
as obvious as that?
Roped mysteries
hauled to lucidity,
tugged into reality.
Something is vaguely changed.
Weary watching,
sidelong looks,
what happens next?
Shawn L. Bird 