Decuma

I have rehearsed the disaster
a thousand times
so I will not have to think
and cannot fail.

Ask the right questions.
Say the right things.
Shoulder a puzzling burden
and pretend to understand,
while deeper meaning eludes me.

Shattered.

Outward calm
but nerves stretched tight.
Bend, don’t break.
Accept your fate.
Chin up and carry on.

After years of why
and holding my breath,
now I see the outlines
of what’s to come.

I’ve lived my life in fog.

I swallow the lump in my throat
and prepare for Decuma's storm.


This was written for Three Word Wednesday.

Safe

I am in a safe place,
my safe zone,
a place where good sense happens,
unblemished by the foolishness
around me.

Consumed by practicalities,
I erect my earthly castle
(no lopsided structure)
of fitted joints,
and steel and stone,
and logic.

I know I build my shelter
on gently shifting sand,
but the stakes go deep
into the ground.
Strong.

So do not think me cold
when I don't join you
at quicksand's edge.
That is where the danger lies.

I'm safer here on higher ground
where there is always much to plan
and always much to do.

Heaven has no use for tears
and I have not the time.

This was written for Three Word Wednesday.

Jigsaw

I think the words
but they don’t go together,
and if the words don’t fit
how can they be true?
A senseless babble,
gibberish,
a buzzing in the brain
as I write with trembling hands.

Stay focused.

There are no solutions here,
only mismatched pieces
of the puzzle of you.
Too many things are missing:
mismatched
misplaced
mistakes were made
and the pieces I’ve been offered
don’t look the same.

I’m told the final piece
must go here now,
but my questions could fill oceans.
Instead I stuff them in teacups,
smile politely
and say it’s all okay.

The answers, when they come,
will engender further questions
(more missing pieces than I can count)
and ahead of me is a long road
with many years to wonder.


This was written for Sunday Scribblings 2.