Trying

I am gripping the pearls of hope in my hands,
but they seem to break away and turn to dust.
The big God in the sky, blue and mysterious
in his ways, fits in my head like an anvil.
Migraine heavy, light sensitive, I’m turning
around inside myself and asking, “Why?”
As a black murder flies around me, the coo-
coo clock’s hands point closer to twenty-four.
Hours, minutes, and seconds pass around
it’s face, bloom to blossom and blossom to wither.
Away, away, I’ve pushed it back into a darker
day, hoping that tomorrow will bring less sorrow.
Optimism is scarce and evaporates in the
drought of my hopes, prayers and dreams.
And beyond my reach is a sapphire gem that
calls my name, begging to be acquired.

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Published by

craneknewitt

I have currently been busy with life and I will be re-publishing older poems. New poems will come. I'm always under construction.

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