"I'm well,"
I wanted to say;
I want you to believe
that I'm far from
really losing it.
That's what I control, the
assortment of feelings
and boxes of emotions
I'll allow you to see
with your probing questions.
I am not different,
we have all arranged
a facade for the world
to see, not turned
because it's not to
be seen behind. And
yet I admit I'm
not the 'he' you
see.
In truth, it's something
that's not discussed,
to the detriment of all of
us. So I write.
"Brother," may I call you
that? A calling, not
military, calls me,
but I'm drifting.
It can't be ignored
and can't be answered.
Was there ever a time
we were honest? Of
course not. No reason?
The 'Odyssey' plagues us
-do not read it.
Our society died,
as did our family
and for a while, me too.
Outside the cottage
you'll find some of us
escaping the reality
of the city: the end of life,
I say,
no one else says it,
I say, will be us
doing chores.
K.J.W.
March 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment