Friday, September 20, 2013


It’s all on you,

You know what you must do,

Tiny cues, collectively, like inner ear whispers from the brain growing you up

Telling you to get going,

Throwing you into the toss around

Every man for himself

Churning the engine

Screeching out in sound

Riding along on this merry go round

Screaming at the body collecting signals

Heart, the home

Boarded up with shingles

Melding, hardening with

Every little pang to the gut

Shock to the skin

Sledgehammer to the head,

Back spasm—

Spastic inelastic ideas of soldiers at war

Attacking your core

Matching the physical, aging stubborn mind

Toughen up at any cost thoughts serve to remind

Until the sound of spirit becomes muffled

And everything you are gets lost in the shuffle,

Forgetting family

Forgetting friends

Losing touch with love

And the helping hands

The bonds you have and hold dear to your hear

Not knowing where to turn

Not knowing how to start

All over again,

Feeling alone and hopeless,

The needle and the yarn back to recovery in the weak, shivering hands

That seamless threads of illogic govern

Like a dream gone bad in

Standstill, the self stranded

Troops disbanded

Overrun with fear

A deer in headlights

You appear to the bright white

Stepping outside for a moment,

Walking in the footsteps frozen over from just before that were forgotten,

Seeing the others’ imprints,

Feeling the cold win blow

Smelling a bonfire burn

Somewhere off in the distance, coyote howls

Savoring the berries of winter,

Coming to know again

Truth and sense

By virtue of the sensory,

The door always open,

To portal you back.

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