What was I thinking?
I’m not even sure that
I know the answer to
that question. Did I ever
mention that, no matter,
the intention, thoughts
become suspended? Days
of my past mix together.
Former ideas whirl around
like a reverberating sound.
I couldn’t tell you what I was
thinking. All I know is what
I was feeling. Hindsight is 20/20.
Some days were bad even when
it was sunny. I look back before
walking through the next door.
He was observed: made from scratch.
He was seen scratching away
at the surface: the stubborn dirt.
He scratched long into the day.
He wanted to reach the hurt.
Not before long, the day was gone.
He found nothing here, so he
scratched there. He couldn’t see
as he scratched deep into the night.
The sun came up, and he looked
down and said: “I can make some-
thing from all the stuff I found.”
Tired and dirty, he walked home
with stuff that can never be shown.
He was happy to have dug below
the surface: a place only he knows.
Today will be just another
day. In a few days, today
will be the past: a shadow
once cast. Remnants
seem to last and remain
the same like a flame
that burns away dark
times. Every single life
is chalk-full of moments
and mementos: highs
and lows: days and nights:
ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.
Thus, today I will be
able to see memories
that have never left me.
Wherever I decide to go,
mementos will remind
me of who I was and who
I strive to be. Really,
they seem to set me free.
Full speed ahead: Time is ticking.
Hold on tight: Time is flying.
Close your eyes to see what’s missing:
Open your ears to always be listening.
Recall your life the best you can.
There’s not much time. Believe me.
Call your friends and lend a hand
So in the end, you’ll be free.
The pain ahead – it’s very real:
So is the life I have lived.
As I get closer, I begin to feel
The misery I have missed.
There’s no stopping it: you live and die.
Your heart’s throbbing. It’ll be okay.
You’re confused; you ask why?
“It’ll be okay” is what I say.
Let’s take it back
to the way it was
before the rain
dropped from above.
The days were green;
the sun surfaced often
as it illuminated dreams
people were caught in.
Impossible to notice,
my life has changed
as my eyes grow wiser
than my age – and memories
become rearranged
as my soul reaches
the next stage.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 