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Friday, July 17, 2015

Challenge, day 17, Poetry

Today I was driving to meet up with a friend for some much needed llbff (life-long best friend forever) time. And as I drove, poetry kept welling up in my mind. I took it as a sign that I am in a broken place, because the poetry hasn't gushed freely for a long time and when it did, it was because I was so broken I couldn't hold the pain inside. My walls were broken, the vessel leaky. Whatever you might want to say. I couldn't keep the pain from rushing out onto the paper like water escaping a leaky pitcher. Ironically enough, today's suggested prompt from Michelle for BTL's blogging challenge is.... drum roll... poetry. So after talking and eating and laughing and eating and pondering and eating and defining the meaning of life and eating and analyzing the world as we know it, I will try to put the thoughts to paper. Okay, well, you know, pound them out on the keyboard to be exact.

Apathy

I awake and watch 
as my life slips away,
sifting through my fingertips like sand. 

I can see the splendor
of color and contrast. 
I see the sky and the sun and the clouds.
I see the amber wheat fields,
the freshly turned dirt.... 
skies of blue and clouds of white.

I can see the laughter 
and hear the rain, 
I am vaguely aware
of the heartache and pain. 

But as I witness the contrasting colors
of my life 
which conjure up emotion,
both joyous and sad.

I'm overtaken.

Things move in slow motion
and the world fades to grey 
right before my very eyes. 

I feel an understanding 
slowly wash over me.
This, I realize, 
is the dread I've heard of, 
the fate worse than violence or death.

This is apathy. 
This is grey, 
lacking the colors of peace, tranquility, joy, or hostility.
This is the bland forever land 
known politely as 
I don't give a damn. 
-Carrie Horn

2 comments:

  1. My response is two-fold: First, content wise, I'm sorry your in bland forever land. Writing wise: I love bland forever land.
    I hope today is more of a Roy G Biv day than grey :-)

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    1. I have missed the poetic side of me, but I think the explanation for its absence is living in a world that is not constantly painful, and I will be glad to go back there. I had an epiphany yesterday. My eldest has been gone for 3 weeks and her phone did not work. I heard her voice yesterday for the first time in 3 weeks and I wept. It is somewhat (more than somewhat?) frightening to know that my sense of well-being is so closely tied to my relationship with my children but the color is seeping back into my life today. I missed this child so much I didn't dare feel all that emotion....

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