Stumbling Around
We’ve all stumbled around
with torn feet and
blood soaked bandages
and felt like slugs
under a rock and wanted
to mail our minds
parcel post to someone else.
I’ve wanted at times to
flee the day and my life
but there’s nowhere to go.
It’s like you’re hammered
into the present moment
or jammed into quicksand.
I’ve wanted to sleep for weeks
or become someone else,
or something else,
preferably some creature
that doesn’t think,
like a beetle or an amoeba
or a jellyfish just
floating in ocean currents.
Sometimes it’s suffocating
and images of past joys
become nightmares in
this inversion of soul, and
breathing becomes strained
as I can’t keep up with the day.
It passes, these soul storms,
these entombments of mind.
One day they just get up
and shadow walk over the hill
and sunlight inches in again
and friends smile.
© Zen Oleary
June 2, 2004
