Day is Done...

(photo by Jeffrey 10/07)

Would I Not Call?

Would I not call a friend up to converse, laugh or cry?

venture from this day-to-day scene, at least try?

If this solitude is sweeter than a friend

or change of scenery,

it bodes fear that one day it might swallow the attempt

to externalize my reveries and try to live again

outside this introspection, my heartfelt understanding

that I delve into my Self and yet

I risk not the demanding

of explaining how or where I've been, what I think, feel or see

to others whom I scarcely trust

my bittersweet memories.

Would I not write a letter, or send a friendly greeting

to let some loved one know I care our hearts are beating?

Will ever come a time I jump up and run outside--

fly through the air or swim beneath

the ocean of my crime

of idle restless meandering

through the grayness of the times

I spend between the daydreams and

the realness of the grind?

Can I dream of other ways to be yet still remain

this humble, angry soul who feels such shame

from never being like my vision on the Path--

a Path that ends at my doorway with no key to fit the latch,

and another cannot enter (how I often wish

one would come inside, sit with me,

laugh, chat, cry--or catch me staring

vacant dreaming of another time).

So at present I am with myself--alone.

Will ever I resolve the inner questing of my mind,

or questions asked by it any answers ever find?

(Or do I know the answers and the questions slipped my mind?)

In grief I've found some solace, simple pleasures to just BE

until it is the time to be no more.

Memories hold me willingly as I try to solve the riddle,

reenacting why I place myself

as peacemaker in the middle

seeing through the lies while ambivalence

sees opposing sides.

I seek a solitary life to integrate my mind

and hope that I accomplish such before a split occurs

shattering this tenuous sanity that is my own.

Fragmented is not comfortable so I bluff wholeness serenely

and truly fear I am a sham

and filled with too much vanity.

Behold this Sister here before the humble mirror reflecting

out away from what's within

in pretense of perfecting.

I know there's goodness ever to be found in seeking Truth

I cannot end my search for what is me

(though I truly thought I would be found by now!)

Just maybe I am younger than my years or how I feel--

A birthing needs to happen to a newer,

peaceful me...

a sturdy soul that stands alone

yet lives in Harmony.

--klh 6/2/95