Words

 

I crave the right words.
“They’ll solve any problem”.
Name it. Shame it. Smoke it out. 
Smite it without sentiment. 
I must believe. 
Poetic conceit. OCD
in a river of confusions. 
Order in chaos, 
in the mystery of my 
own despairs, questions, hopes,
doubts. Secrets. 

So… each day I
hunt the elusive truffle,
the best way
to capture a tiny
hidden reward.
I’m not “sad”. Not depressed, really.
I carry stubborn sorrows.
Grief,
and that comes as
a shock. But…
You can’t push the river.
I’m looking for the waters 
from a deeper source.
Not money or fame,
not love nor lust. 
Nor man’s God nor faith…
I’ve chased them all, but
I’m thirsty for the water from
a deeper well.  

Yesterday, I sat with my
despairs, my angers
and after a while, 
they confessed
they are really just grief. 
“Sometimes,” Anger said, 
“they’re fears, too.” 

Regrets. Loneliness.
Loss so deep the ache 
may be permanent. 
I hope for the right words, 
In the midst of despair
comes hope. 
There must be a pony
in the pile of waste somewhere. 
There can be beauty 
amidst the mediocre bits
of an ordinary life. 

With the right words. 

 

Tags: grief, growth, hope poetry, poem, poet, poets corner