I get mired in the muck-
a lot. It aggregates around
my feet, holding them like
cement to a spot I no longer
care to be. When I can
I take a step, each movement
leaden and heavy; I go
to automatic pilot until
comprehension forms
like the mist
in the mountains.
When I can look back
see the sludge begin
to fall with each step
forward. Easier to stay
mucked in the dark,
there’s a comfort
there’s a comfort
that lets me rest,
hopeless in mygloom.
I know that place
that serenades me
with music of the damned
is not for me, so I close
off from my stinkin
thinker and move –
baby steps until I see
a ray of sunshine
that melts away
the crap and gloom,
releases me to a life
I was meant to live,
allowed to live, if only
I make the right choices.
I move.
5 comments:
Judy, I like the way you described being mired in the muck and kicking it off step by step, finally leaving it behind as you catch the sun. The progression of your thoughts is very appealing.
You're a master of moving forth through the muck, Judy, and finding the sun (perfect moments). I especially like the word aggregates here, really sounds heavy and sluggish.
Ann, You just reminded me of Perfect Moments. I have to start spotting them...especially in the muck. :)
Excellent description of what it feels like to push forward out of the muck and the effort it takes. You put into words well feels I have had.
Like that there is movement, that poem's speaker reminds of the potential of choices.
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