Confusing is the path one ought to take,
So full of twists and turns it’s hard to stand:
Stand by; and soon enough the path will make
More sense, next steps elucidated, and
Courage nearby to take the trembling hand.
One step ahead is all that might be shown,
But difficulties won’t be faced alone.
I am transported back to the lunch table,
The innocence of elementary school friendships;
And the sun which now shines on me witnesses
This hit of intense nostalgia-bliss:
Taste of sticky-sweet and I am somehow free,
All else that surrounds me is extraneous.
Extracting happiness from the memory,
Sensing a stable, never-gone presence.
Good things happen when I eat lunch outside, I guess! Inspiration is found in the most random places. Linked with FOWC: Extraneous.
I was the new girl in the town;
He approached when I wore a frown
And sat alone, his friendly face
Pushed loneliness out of that place.
Through years and every up and down,
Time allowed our friendship to grow.
I found him quite simpatico,
But something happened I still grieve:
Without a warning he did leave,
Where he is now I do not know.
Your boat is not the only one;
To suffering do not be blind
See with the heart, choose to be kind,
Share of your access to the sun.
One day’s work doesn’t mean it’s done:
People’s circumstances crumble.
But if your world starts to rumble
Those you’ve helped can help you also,
With value of friendships that grow,
Detached from money, and humble.
I decided to try Prosery again at DVerse. We are “jazzing it up” today. Lillian gives us the choice between two quotations from Carl Sandburg’s poem “Jazz Fantasia.” The one I used is, “Moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops.”
The depression is usually worse in the fall, as the weather tends to be more cold and rainy. I am thinking — I am hoping — spring and summer will get the worst of it this year. I am hoping unsteadily, that in September or October, I can see more friends. Maybe even in person. Maybe I can go to the store and roll my eyes at all the pumpkin spice, and not even have to think about my (not-Halloween) mask. As it is, all day this whole world feels like The Twilight Zone, and some moments I feel so lonely that my soul wants to moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops.
A metaphysical earthquake:
The world is not what it had been,
Taken for granted so often.
The way of life we’d known did shake
Quickly, with sanity at stake.
Truthfulness of media’s view
We can’t assume — what do we do?
Looking into each other’s eyes,
Kindness can come a great surprise,
Can hope something, at least, is true.
Maybe this poem makes me sound pathetic, but gosh all I want is a hug. I don’t live by myself but am still so isolated, especially emotionally. Thanks to Fandango for the prompt word, and I am also sharing with the Writers’ Pantry. Will post this before I change my mind.