p o e t
r y
g a l l e r i e s
STRUCK
A melody of sirens echo in my ears
Drowning my simple existence
And minimizing my life to a ten-second
television sound byte.
I try to thrust forward, but the weight
of my perils push me even further back.
A drum is pounded nearby
as seagulls begin to flap their wings and fly.
Salty blood floods my mouth,
Reminding me that life is a mere fluid,
Ebbing and flowing by the direction of the One who
has mastered it before.
I reach out for help, for anything to ease the pain.
To ease the anguish.
A stone, rough and cold, is felt.
No help here. A sidewalk curb separates me from freedom.
The cold wind presses against my face,
I look up to see a bright star streaking across the night sky.
"American Airlines flight 1744 departing for Denver.
Last call for seating."
Gasoline fumes. Lilacs and sewage water.
An empty whiskey bottle.
A rose petal floats by.
It is now complete.
My life.
A melody of sirens echo in my ears
Drowning my simple existence
And minimizing my life to a ten-second
television sound byte.
I try to thrust forward, but the weight
of my perils push me even further back.
A drum is pounded nearby
as seagulls begin to flap their wings and fly.
Salty blood floods my mouth,
Reminding me that life is a mere fluid,
Ebbing and flowing by the direction of the One who
has mastered it before.
I reach out for help, for anything to ease the pain.
To ease the anguish.
A stone, rough and cold, is felt.
No help here. A sidewalk curb separates me from freedom.
The cold wind presses against my face,
I look up to see a bright star streaking across the night sky.
"American Airlines flight 1744 departing for Denver.
Last call for seating."
Gasoline fumes. Lilacs and sewage water.
An empty whiskey bottle.
A rose petal floats by.
It is now complete.
My life.
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