SLOGGING THROUGH

In purgatory silence

A fool in the snow

Can’t see where to go.

Toward Patience

or Time

or Remember When?

At His cross-roads,

the way so

Glacier slow.

Northern: Drifts of Doubt

Southern: Endless Drought

Eastern: Fields of Pride

Western: Wasted Time

All Kodak-scattered,

Shattered,

Under the tundra of

Yesterday’s Blunder.

Chilly smiles deliver warmth

Perhaps mistaken

Before history morphed.

Spring will come, but for now,

The Dunce, in flake-strewn air

waves crispy gloves to see

a route towards Wherever.

Just, Free.

Watching iPhone-boy,

on your distant side-street in quiet

Don’t Care,

shift the cozy curtain there,

Toss a gesture.

Where.

Just point for Him in falling snow.

Diabolically smart,

You must know ... 

Give it over.

Get it over.

Finally,

and be Done.

Just tell the

blinded

fool to

Run.
© 

Comments

[anonymous]

How deeply sad. Everyone feels this sometime, stumbling through endless dark fields of snow, with no sun, no hope. Luckily, for most of us, it's only 'sometime.'

[ERNYC]

What a wonderful piece. Loved it. Very clever, sad and heavy...Felt it.