I wonder what she thinks about
Confined to her bed
A life long gone with only memories in her head

I wonder what she thinks about
Carefree as a child?
When she could be playful, free and wild

I wonder what she thinks about
The man she took as her husband
The happily ever after that was never bound

I wonder what she thinks about
When she had her kids at home
To love and care and nurture us, as we were her own

I wonder what she thinks about
Was she sad when we moved away?
Did she feel alone and abandoned as we went about our day?

I wonder what she thinks about
Laying motionless in her hell
A life that has now passed with only memories in an empty shell

She brought me into this world
Now I'm not ready for her to walk out

When your world has been turned upside down
The rest of the world still carries on
Continues to Spin around
As if nothing is wrong
Whilst your world crumbles to the ground
And your screams carry no sound

As the rest of the world still carries on

A zillion voices tell you
... What to do
Your own silent screams
... Fall on deaf ears
Your head is about to burst
... It is a curse
So listen to your own voice
... That is your choice

DEAD EYES HAVE NO SOULS
NOTHING TO SEE IN THESE WINDOWS

.

Looking on
this expanse that encircles me,
closing in during open hours,
unlocking doors I can’t seem to walk through
Stairways of rotted, termite eaten steps
each with my name painted on them,
creaking underfoot,
losing to the weight of
long lines at self serve counters
wrapping around as if
nothing is free but here
for some reason it is

And I stand right in the middle
alone in this ocean of faces,
polo shirts and penny loafers
staring at cell phone screens,
calling someone,
talking with their hands,
hands free?
Paying it forward,
coffee for the next guy in line,
but not me

For I am just here, anywhere,
somewhere like this,
a thing plopped down,
fallen from the sky,
splattering on the earth,
consumed by the soil,
muddied footprints and all
trudging through the wilderness,
carving a path of existence
breaking branches and
scattering bread crumbs

Still I am me,
standing tall among the taller,
enjoying the shade,
sipping lemonade and eating apple dumplings,
pushing, not pulling forward,
dreaming, (of course)
regardless of tire tracks and scars
or pointed fingers,
Pounding the pavement,
laying a foundation,
driven beyond

Parking lot base,
asphalt themed destinations,
a checkerboard of last rites and dead batteries,
yellow lines on the horizon,
handicapped up front
Looking out over the valley,
watching the world go by,
admiring the beauty,
loving life,
rejoicing in the fact
that it is all so immensely
vast . . .

as am I