Out of breath.
Out of time.
Out of love.
Out of rhyme.
Out of water.
Out of luck.
Some days I'm just stuck, in this life of muck.
Life is a ripple in the sea.
Adrift on divine love, that can never be.
I wallow here, in this land.
Muddy muck, on face, shoes and hands.
Gunk forms on the soles of my feet,
keeping me pinned, grounded.
Squashing under foot,
put here, by chances I never took.
Let my mind drift for it travels far.
I go to places and spaces I never knew,
never wanted to see, was afraid to look.
Perhaps with some of them,
I will never see again.
sometimes life takes us to places that are big challenges......muck on face, shoes, hands..felt intensity here gwen...sometimes though we learn the most valuable lessons for life in those places...though not easy..
ReplyDeletesmiles...life can def weigh us down at times...and often i find it is my art that allows me those travels that refresh me...nicely writ gwen
ReplyDeletegood to see you again...
so many sense beneath the feet
ReplyDeletenano birthing chamber
I feel this on a very personal level. I've battled the same thing, thought the same thoughts, though you capture them so well in this... well penned!
ReplyDeleteI too feel this as a personal write--and I have had so many of these thoughts before---you capture this part of the heart so well!
ReplyDeleteSome days can sure suck, but out of rhyme? What the umm duck. haha
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your emotion here. I've also been pondering what I will or will not see again
ReplyDeleteI was going to suggest we go to the La Brea Tar Pits...but cancel that.
ReplyDeleteGwen, awesome! The opening stanza is just great poetry writing. Your sequencing choice perfect. I stumbled not at the order. My sense and feel said yes to it. It, the stanza sets the tone and cadence for the remainder of your poem. Beautiful poetry writing my friend. Also, be encouraged. You are loved in the world by at least one somebody--wink, wink. On to the next poem my friend.
ReplyDelete...i was equally affected... how do we come to this point of no return... sooner or later what was once a haven for all living creatures will be nothing but as cold as graves stones when we open our eyes... sigh...
ReplyDelete