Some mornings, this morning
I wake wrapped in helplessness.
Pain is. Tsunamis crash. War rage
Friends suffer. Diseases progress.
Clients give up. Death waits. Or doesn't.
I sit in bed, listen to my beloved breathe.
I know our days are numbered.
I cannot know their number.
I open bag of soft blue yarn, six skeins.
I wrap them into six neat blue balls.
Chances are the sun will rise and I
I will riise too and do what I can do.
Some mornings, this morning
ReplyDeleteI wake wrapped in helplessness.
Pain is. Tsunamis crash..
love it, brilliant lines. keep it up.
:)
Yes, to do what one can do. So important, in the face of all the difficulties in the world, in one's loved ones/ lives, in one's own life.
ReplyDeletelaconic and intense...we may not do much but we can do our bit and that would be something....
ReplyDeleteThis is such a blessing of everyone's thoughts from time to time as pain in life gets so big. I love the way you deal though with your soft yarn sitting next to your sleeping husband. Beautiful scene of tenderness amidst such angst and mortality.
ReplyDeleteour temporary state comes through loud and clear. great poem
ReplyDelete