a poem for my mother
Lacking rudder or direction, A ship will drift until it runs out of fuel Or wind Or runs aground. Meanwhile, I can Spend all day like this. Go to bed like this. As every star Rises and falls Again into the sky. If minutes were days And each day a year… I’d be near deathless as gods. So laden with drifting I would drown myself To hear an answered prayer. If seasons were centuries And each year an Age… Lifetimes would fall like snow The snow would never end And then would never end once more. It is said that time Dilates with speed. Then how quickly do tears come now? As quickly as I know The people around me Are not you Once again Propelling me From one dimension to the next Ocean, where words Dream to run aground Upon a reef as white as hair, As what glints As moonlight upon clouds Still shaped By the wind, my bones Grow brittle as I hunch Involuntarily, forget my name wonder When I should expect to die… Yet, in the morning, I am sailing in the same Old new world, awake Another morning… Morning, morning…Again Drifting Morning Without you, Once again.
Thank you for reading Ryka's Most Excellent World :)! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.