BrokenEchoes

  It is a chill windy morning Between the east Kentucky hills The faint, barely there scent of a looming storm Mixes with the heavy maple notes Wafting from the main street diner The sun has risen somewhere But she is unseen Still concealed by the mountains Or veiled by the whispery morning fog I am walking to work When I walk out at the end of the day, This world will have changed again I linger I take in the quiet morning I appreciate it. Then I walk inside.

  I have a deep unease squirming in my gut Wallowing in the sauces, flopping in the goop It causes me great discomfort and worry This small but growing threat must be dealt with Stilled, destroyed, or purged Before it can cause me further harm How though. It eats, and slithers and grows While I unsuccessfully search for a weakness A chink in its armor, a soft spot to attack If this goes on, I will be consumed And only the parasite will remain

  Abhorred by most, dreaded by many Rainy days are my home I feel at ease in the cold grey damp The heavy drops roar my inner soul to life Simple, calm, clean, but chaotic Loud and enveloping. Sunny days are too bright and open There is no protection there The rain advances closer, surrounding me With a shielding essence I am lulled, pacified, content On rainy days This world is better when drenched It is softer around the edges and More complete Brimming with possibility and ambition I am drawn, intrigued, comforted On rainy days.

  You insult me and beat me down Then lay your hands on me To heal me And make me better Take your hands away from me You are without faith Your touch cannot heal me Stop trying I am starving And diseased And mortally wounded Because of neglect I am broken And hurt And dying slowly Because of abuse.

  When the connection is severed And nothing is left Except the sound of my own breathing I am forced to face reality The reality that I am still a child A lost, lonely, frightened child I am searching for home My home where all my happy thoughts are Where I can be a little less vigilant And breathe a little slower I have never been there But I hope to be soon I don’t know where to go from here I am faced with myriad decisions Which choices will lead me home?

  This ancient monstrosity never sleeps There is always a worn gear to replace A stuck mechanism to oil A stiff crank that needs turning It lumbers creakily crankily along Using up parts, and fuel and people Not knowing the pain it causes.

  I feel like I am pushing myself too hard And I feel like I am not doing enough And I feel these things at the same time.