Slipping inexorably, my hands and feet tractionless on long dry slippery grass. My throat is thick with unshed tears. Recent hope is circling the drain, as thoughtless stupidity hands the keys of the human world to a mindless virus. In the Before Times, I clung to a dream of finding the steps into a better future, both for me, and overall. The gateway to that path is closed now. The brightness of wildland fires and heat dome sunlight burns the maps.
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Being sad is ok. Sometimes things are hard, and you have a lot to cope with. I think yo7 will find your pluck again, especially when you physically feel better.
ReplyDeleteDespair is not good, but it can lead to bursts of creativity like your beautiful poem. It's incredibly painful but important for those of us who are aware to bear witness and leave a record of humanity's self destruction. Much love to you.
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