How to describe what many are now feeling
Acutely sharp that leaves them fearful, reeling
With anxious longings for a simpler time,
An echo of imaginary rhyme?
The carpet once new many years hence now
Hopelessly stained, a thing to disavow,
This is our life, the place we live in now.
We walked it here this way and came long last
To this place many now long for a past.
How can we go back when it never was?
Our time has one directive just because
It does, and no amount of wishful thinking
Can steer our fated vessel clear of sinking.
But we are creatures who hang onto things
Long after they hold purpose other than
Emotion, sentiment’s rememberings,
As part of who we are, because we can.
A lock the combination long forgotten;
Clothes we have fatted out of or not worn;
Even food in the fridge which has gone rotten
Unnoticed in a flurry of being forlorn.
Old keys we keep in case if ever we
Return and find the lock unchanged, the key
Still fits, but entering we find that we
Have changed and no longer fit the place
We once called home become a stranger’s space.
How did we get to this when, a place and time
Our own reflection unfamiliar grown?
Was the glass always cracked, besmirched with grime
Such that we cannot see what once was known?
Our past is somewhere in that darkened mirror,
Forgotten at our peril, graver error
Still to seek entrance through this silver portal
Only to find reversed from what was normal.
I Dwell In Possibility 