poem 169 of a poem a day for 2012

I don’t remember how to feel

tell me anything but the truth

in the absence of everything now

that I am reeling with depression

even the young child

I’ve harbored inside me

only goes swimming in wishing wells

if only to tell myself

there might be something

there for me on the other side

of my breathless running to hide

this world does not seem fit

for my humanity

nor anyone else’s that I can see

ghost forests fill with echoes

of what once was

if only because

the museums are

open to the paying crowds

the whole hole of the Sun

plays silhouettes with how

I’ve learned to run and stay

as far away from me as I can

this world cannot hold me

with its mechanical prowess

anymore as I long to be a window

smashed of its glass

and bleeding the wind

so I can curl and carve

my way back to where

that door is I came in

EJR ©