The Wanderer

I rest the palms of my hands

on my knees

and breathe slowly,

 

in- out-

 

I feel the rhythm

of my chest

falling and rising,

hear the sound of air rushing

in my ears.

 

It calms

the wanderer in my head

and lets him rest

amongst the sulci

in my brain.

 

But at night

when darkness breaks

my mindful concentration,

restless footsteps

on my slumber…

 

and, as I lie and ponder

why he wanders,

tired eyes are forced open

once again.

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The Door

When my life

is just

doing time.

When my joy and laughter

are just

pretending.

 

When my days stretch into

endless

repetition

without expectation, anticipation or

perspective.

When I watch others live

their life,

whilst my life

just

passes by…

 

Then rests only

dread…

Life in the prison of my

mind,

dark, with boarded windows

and one door.

 

Now the question:

Do I stay…

or leave?

 

 

 

The Precipice

I have stood on the precipice

of the rest of my life,

for a while now.

With my toes over the edge,

balancing,

uncertain,

afraid to plunge into the abyss.

 

Frozen,

eyes shut.

Unable to look to the future

beckoning

in sunlit beauty across

the divide.

 

Calling gently,

encouraging me to trust,

to leap

and set my mind to joy…

 

but I cannot…

paralysed…

 

Behind closed lids

warm tears well and slip

saltily

down my cheeks.

 

Why?

 

Silence.

 

Why…

do I dare not live?