The hydrangeas look tired
In the well kempt yards
They look thirsty, gasping
Like they can't breathe
They remind me of old friends
They remind me of me
It makes me sad
That I get used to the smell
Of the dirt, the cold Earth
And the flowers and trees
And even the sea.
They all smell like nothing eventually.
I can hear the stream
Way down in the gorge
I can hear the leaves falling
Soft and slow
From the canopy
To the gentle valley below
Most birds don't sing
So sweet and so kind
They chitter hysterically
Sharply, calling out
For some sort of lifeline
Maybe just each other
I wish the Earth could embrace me
I do what I can to accept the gracious
Reassurance of its magnetic energy
Taking solace in the knowledge
That eventually the ground will envelop me
And I'll dissolve; Raindrop to the sea.
YOU ARE READING
My Year of Unrest: a collection of poems I wrote in 2020
PoetryA collection of poems from 2020 that act as my diary as I deal with anxiety, starting antidepressants for the first time, the pandemic, and the unstable socio-political climate in the United States. Critique is welcome and encouraged. Some poems ar...
