Dead Amongst the Living

Dead Amongst the Living

I’m no longer writing poetry

I’m not sure why

I sit here on the front porch

Looking at the sky

And that is all I do

These thoughts are many

These thoughts are few

I just don’t know who I am anymore

Stillness can be heaven

Stillness can be hell

And often I cannot

Will not

Tell the difference

These dichotomies have created judgment in me

I don’t want that anymore

But this place where I sit amongst a sandy shore

Feels very unsettling to me

All I wanted was to be free

And all I got was imprisoned

The train blows shrill across the chasm

It’s a warning instead of an announcement

But he seems to be having fun letting it loose

Over and over and over

I look down at the struggling clover

That is surviving this summer heat

Nothing else here questions its existence

Nothing

So why do I?

Why do I sit and stare at sky

And wonder why it is I’m here?

To sing a song, to drink a beer

To play a game, to work a day

To walk on and on in this merry way

That leads to both great joy and brutal heartache

I hope that those that attend my wake

Will be there to have fun when they greet me

kdc, 6/2/19

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