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Depleted
Defeated. Every. Day.
When I wake there's still a flicker of hope,
But it's hollow, weak and misleading.
Time feels frozen but seasons
Accelerate past me.
It's mind numbing.
Trying to survive the pandemic,
Yes, but even more so the people.
Your life isn't worth much to most.
They continue to find new ways
To remind you what essential
Really means.
I'm spent, I'm angry, I'm done.
Yet I'm still pushing this boulder
Uphill everyday, it won't be long
Before I and everything around me
Explodes! Or worse I'll just continue
To wear away, fizzle out and
Simply be overridden.
Where You Been?
Existing inside your experiences, I wager. Your woundrous poem describes my worklife 1968-2008. 40 years of boulder pushing. All uphill, sweat was the predominant feature. Most of the stuff bought, taken or given away. If I had bought stock, I would not be writing to you. So, hang tough. Vaccine due 2022, or sooner.
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Some exciting belt tightening ahead! Stay tuned.
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The kind of talent you have
The kind of talent you have to be able to write a poem like this will not simply fizzle out. I think the fact that you can write a poem like this says a lot; and saying a lot is a sign of the surge of life.
Starward