BrokenEchoes

  I am almost there There are only a few miles left I can smell the cinnamon tea Steeping on the coffee table The goldfinch promises a song I can hear the porch swing creaking Nudged by a gentle wind And see the lightning bugs dance I can smell fresh cut grass And hear her singing somewhere  I eagerly await her warm embrace Then I will know I am home That is where I want to be I am almost there.

  I’m not the person you may remember The years have changed me I am older and greyer, but also I’ve trusted the wrong people Been led down some dark, dangerous roads Made some terrible decisions I haven’t known who I am for a while I can’t recognize the person in the mirror But I have made a change I reached my limit and I turned around I don’t have faith in those people anymore I’m trying to make better choices I am still old and grey But I am on a brighter path now Hopefully soon I’ll be back to my old self Someone you once knew.

  We endured a long bleak winter In which no joy could grow Sorrows accumulated like snowflakes We longed for the warm rescue of spring It felt like it would never arrive I couldn’t find a way to help The drifts deepened The ground was frozen So we left We picked up our things and we left That frigid tundra may still be there But we don’t care Here the land is rich The sorrows are few And joy grows abundantly.

  I’ve seen enough beginnings To know how little significance they hold The new purple and yellow flowers of spring Are just as brown as everything else come fall The red-haired hopefulness of youth Goes grey, and regretful, and angry It is just the way things are Always decaying Engaged in the slow march of entropy Novelty dims As the new dream dies Replaced by an even deeper malaise We must resist the urge to celebrate We must repel the suggested promise of renewal Lest we be disappointed Forced to drink our fill of despair.

  After dinner Just a short walk down the street We amble past a mundane miracle The crumbling concrete sidewalk Is home to determined beauty Struggling forth from ragged rock Standing straight and tall Unapologetic and unashamed Unstoppable and unmoved By the dystopian surroundings Truly genuine, authentic, And uniquely powerful In an unassuming, everyday way I am stricken silent Stilled and awestruck At how I spar futilely And stumble My efforts and results bested By this ordinary specimen Inspired, I vow to be stronger better Buoyed by this unexpected example.

  I will make it I will survive this slump This funk This valley, though dark Is not where I will end. I will climb out of this lowland I will stand on the mountain again Not today Not this week But it will happen