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Progress

It has been a while since I have posted any poetry here; so here are two views of life, one from each end of the tunnel.

Dark Days

I’d been a long time traveling, confident, certain of my destination;
then one gray morning I woke and realized I’d lost my way.

Somehow I’d wandered down through narrow lanes
where sunshine was a rumor not a fact;

down into the haunts of dark despond
where no one smiled, and flowers never bloomed;

where Hope, that ancient whore, leaned in her doorway
leering, beckoning, with painted face and sagging breasts

offering for a price what she and I both knew
she did not have.

 

A Brief Reunion

I ran into my sorrow today. I passed him in the hall.
I almost didn’t recognize him, he looked so old, so tired and worn.
He was droning his sad theme song;
the one with the slow piano riff and the violins.

He mumbled the usual words about somber skies and rainy nights.
I nodded out of deference to the company he’d given me in lonelier times,
and he beckoned me to join him in his mourning.

For an instant I felt the self-indulgent pull to wander lonely wastes
and wind-swept crags feeling helplessness, hopelessness, and pointlessness again.
But then I recalled that I had had enough of lessnesses to last me all the days to come
and so I shook my head and bowed my last goodbye.

I left him there seeming reconciled,
even satisfied, that he no longer had a home.
The dark bird on his shoulder winked a bright eye in farewell.

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4 Responses

  1. I love your personification …. if that’s the right word … the ancient whore Hope … and sorrow, who you meet in the hallway. Wonderfully affecting.

  2. Love the way you describe sorrow! So true! And nice to leave him behind as well!

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