I usually don't post a poem so recent, and this I wrote only a week ago while still in the clutches of depression. For any who read yesterday's extensive comments it should be obvious why I chose to post this poem.
Don’t Look Back
I see my life as a black road stretching back
through infinite potholes of time
to a horizon where black-bottomed clouds
always threaten to storm, a sinister road
flanked by trees blasted the color of ash,
trunks hollow-topped and jagged.
Those are my trees by the sagging barbwire
between the termite-riddled fence posts.
Those are my cows behind the wires
starving, starving, barely standing.
The reason? They have discovered who they are.
I want to tell them, “You are not just meat”
but they know it is a lie.
I cling to my lies like a fat black spider
hanging from a silver filament.
The lies matter, don’t they? Well, don’t they?
Things don’t become other than they are
just because you want them to.
I close the eyes in the back of my head
and shuffle forward.
And with that, I conclude today's blog with brevity, a quality I sorely lack--but only because I have so much to say!
Thine at 2 kilobunnies,