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In The Strangeness Of This Calm
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In the strangeness of this calm,
bitter leaves tasted by mouth,
grasping tears falling
from eyes closed.
Lifting hands to head,
calling for God to
bring peace.
Growing.
That is what this
state of perspective is called.
Mangled thoughts that
run like
dogs on a leash.
Pulling until choked.
Gasping, yet still
struggling.
Hide away the coloured
lights. They sparkle
for someone else.
On and off until the
power fades.
Demanding feet that
insist upon travelling.
Walking like a man,
sobbing like a boy.
Internal bleeding
not seen by
anyone else.
Calmly opening the backyard
fence. Slipping like oil
into the alley.
Running.
That's what this point of view
can lead to.
Escaping.
Cannot be found
if the house is empty
and the phone is
off the hook.
