Poem: Battlefield – 19/07/21

As I sit in my rocking chair
I ponder to myself,
what is there to contemplate or even know,
how should I proceed in life,
these stumbling blocks keep coming,
they are rife,
and they trash my days and hours,
slitting them open like warm butter
attacked with a knife.

Eyes within, they glower,
witnesses who think they know me more than me,
so much better,
they glance upon with mediocrity in their eyes,
pity begins to flower.

I cannot help myself,
despairing feelings overwhelm,
they irritate and sadden me all
at the same time,
emotions coagulate,
they brew inside of me,
whilst the others watch on freely,
I’m ashamed in this moment
to be such a sensitive entity.

Because usually, generally,
I am adamant,
I do not let damp sadness get the
better of me,
and yet
here I am,
looking out upon myself,
like a sad sack of sand on the pavement,
where is my power,
my strident ability to rise above
this ailment?

Still, I sit,
rock and rock away,
mechanically, forward and back,
whiling away the day,
and eventually, the aches and groans internally
might fade away,
there’s no room for brightness but
at least the clouds have maybe cleared
for the day.

And perhaps this is all a mere moment which will
pass away,
the gloom will leave this room,
this mental space, cavity, prison, I’ve assumed,
soon I will take the reins
and ride forward, tossing my mane here and there,
astride will I ride into battle
without a single care.

And then I will pre-empt the almighty force
that beckons and crawls to me
making me feel so unassured,
I will become belligerent toward the pain,
I will hunt it down,
I will triumph above,
sadness squeals in vain,
how about that,
I tell the witnesses,
as I dismount my beast,
evermore the battlefields with my
courage and valiant honour
are stained,
I have allowed them to see
the true me.
 
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo from Pexels

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