Jun 06, 2011 09:55
Tiny hummingbirds with the mouths of vacuum cleaners sip the fruity shampoo from my head in the shower and I’m afraid to step out into the cold bathroom of the rest of my life regardless of the fact that it’s a sunny day.
I find I have no more sadness to hold onto. I have no failures to define me. I’m all out of bookmarks and the weathervane’s barely moving. I fold the pages of my life that I want to come back to, to mark my place but I have no idea how to mark the future. I can’t look forward to anchors when there is nowhere to put them.
I am barely here. I feel alien happiness, alien contentment, alien success. For the moment I am not neck-deep in fray. I have upkeep to worry about and small problems to take care of but those are like crumbs to the monster of a large, dark section of my soul. I am a warrior in armour at a picnic. I am a prisoner long since paroled. I’d be jumping at shadows if there were any but it’s a beautiful day.
Hope’s in my heart and it’s an intruder. I’m looking at it and I have no idea how to make it feel welcome. I am an observer of my own happiness. I do not feel sad. I am not depressed. I am not angry, confused, panicked, scared or rushing. If this is contentment, I am not used to it. If I am at peace, it’s new.
tags
new,
shower,
sad,
poem