Thursday, June 29, 2006
Fields And Streams Of Unconsciousness…
Regardless of how much one whines and complains about the lack of things that make you happy – sometimes absence does make the heart grow fonder. Sometimes one grows fonder of having one less responsibility. Sometimes one is glad to not throw out withered word-petals at a funeral procession that’s already passed you by.
Your grief hangs over my head like Louisiana humidity.
My concern for you swaddles my heart.
I wade through the fields and streams of unconsciousness
Not knowing if I should turn back
or continue to plod forward
My concern for you
replaces my usual unspoken words
with the ones
I say out loud to you