Who is the healer when I am alone? Thoughts rocking my boat, unease in my home. Who’s caring for me when as far as I see, the tunnel, the web, all ends so easily? Who’s wondering at the actions, the paths of my mind, without action, talk’s just rhetoric, best breathe stale air elsewhere, instead, quickened time. The sickening malady, the upset tummy, the turning guts at knowing I’m not so all-knowing, what is it about my path I seek? My journey, my enlightening of the darkness I keep? Breathe me, freely, let me weep, so many words I should not be allowed to speak. But, I am. I am, I am, I am. I will purge. Now let me be.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
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