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 Mar 2024 T R Wingfield
Siyana
I'm in a bathroom at a party,
             why do i always lock myself away...
               I don't know how to have fun,
              so please don't depend at all on me...
                         I like my solitude
Going to
therapy
taking pills talking
talking to people
sleeping
enough
rough thoughts
in my head

Breast heavy
flow interrupted
step by
step
got it?
I am doing what I can to get out of it... people tell me it takes time. I am impatient simply because I want t feel better.
The small family of four
were mixed into a crowd
of tired nearly exhausted
and disheveled long distant
travelers. Most having walked
overland for many weeks from
their homelands in Central or
South America driven by the
desire to escape physical danger
and abject poverty, all seeking a
new beginning. Men and women
many with babies or children in
their arms or upon their backs.
Willing to risk everything to reach
the Promised land.

Nearing their objective their paths
are blocked by a tall fence of steel
and barbwire, behind which stand men
with guns and snarling barking dogs.

And upon that barrier wall are posted
many signs some written others implied
in several languages that read.
"Stop!" "No Trespassing! "
"No Vacancies! Full up!"
"No Vagrants need Apply!"
"No work Here!"
"Not accepting any new applicants!"
"Move along no loitering allowed!"
"Go Back Where You Came From!"
"THIS BORDER CLOSED!"
"Violators are subject to having your
children taking from you, and or
you arrested or being shot!"

The disheartening collective message
being, you are not welcome here.
We got ours and you can't have any!
Oh, American I hardly know thee
anymore.
My adoring stare
Loves you
Like I'm yours
But I stay behind
With my eyes down
So you may not know
For fear you may erase
Both our smiles
With the doubt
In your mind
Chances gone forever
Not this neck of the woods again.
They say Annie Wilkes found you
and brought you here.

You know the face,
but not the name.

Leaving so soon?
You just checked in.

Death is not a parallel move.
Neither is living at the
Love will terrace apartments.

Eye of the needle and thread.
If wolf is at the door,
Guess who's in bed?
Butcher, baker, candlestick maker?
Or is it simply Norman?
I found a
Broken
Piece of a
Puzzle
And it
Fits
My
Chaos...
Perfectly
Belonging
In my
Universe
If it fits....it fits
I'm listening to the house ,
the popping of the joists ,
the groans from years of delapidation . The arguing
with local foundations .

Age has its benefits in the forms of doors as they no longer stay moored to the walls but swing in indecision like the fools who stand in perpetual obsolesence .

Where then do my thoughts propel my rudderless oblivion ?
My angst , the thumb in many dikes , leaves me as powerless before the mass of my desperation .

How dare the Ghosts of daylight leave me marooned in the shadow of shadows .

I am confused and challenged by the hidden agendas and secret subpoenas of an alien race of thought .

And were I capable of burying the haunting images , would they not
sprout from my seeds of discontent and flourish
yet greater than before ?

. . . evidently so .
He comes as if on a mission, first around my feet,
rubbing against my legs as if asking permission,
then ever so carefully he jumps up onto my desk,
sits on the edge for a moment looking at me. Then
he turns his back allowing his large tail to hang off
the corner edge of the desk and like a fisherman, the
tail his line and bait, he slowly sways it back and forth
as an intentional invitation for me to play the "Tail Game"
with him. Left and right, back and forth, slowly, enticingly.

It swings to the left and my waiting fingers gently grasp it,
give it a light brief shake and let go and it swings back
onto the desktop, then back and forth for as long as I care
to participate. Cunning little attention gaining feline fellow
that he is.

Eventually I will tire of the game and require two hands
on the keyboard, thus ending the event, he will then turn
around and lay down right in front of me on the desktop
purring his pleasure song, and blinking his big seductive
contented "I got ya' again" cat eyes.
I have been seduced and manipulated many times
in my long life, but this little cat is an expert at it.
Our beauty outside is a fleeting thing,
is but a mask we all wear. And in time
something we must all surrender, when
the mask we see in our mirror is no
longer pleasing. But it's the beauty
within us that truly matters, and once
discovered and acknowledged never
really disappears.

Outer beauty can be seen with
a glance. Inner beauty must be
discovered. By ourselves firstly
and then recognized by others
who care enough to dig a little
deeper.
This write was inspired by the thoughtful
poem "Reflections versus perceptions"
by our lovely friend C.J. Sutherland.
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