Flashes of coherent thought

War against doubts and fears

Synapses flash

Breathing races

Heart pounds to feed the cells

Juices flow

Decisions hit the walls

Like splattered paint

And run down into pools

Along the mop boards

The smell of roses and burnt toast collide

I have run out of paper

And my ink has dried on the line

I can’t think of any words that would

Make sense

I am full of broccoli and chicken

The Oolong tea was dark and buckets of water

Sat unattended as the melting snow from the roof

Burbled through clear plastic tubes

Like sap into the red plastic pails

And a brain damaged man

Made guttural noises in the other room

But the waitress was sweet and attentive

It was good not to have to make supper

And drink egg drop soup from a

Thick white bowl

Still I am hunting for a poem

To post on my blog before midnight

My Easter vigil has begun

Now 40 minutes have passed and still nothing

I want to write about death and life

Because of Easter but the words smack of hokum.

Where did that go?

Where is that part of me who heard the angels sing

And felt the still small voice of God?

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015