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
Marble Hill Press 