by Claire Scott
Mired in muck & mire
visibility close to zero
unmoving, unmovable
friends come and go
with lasagna, scalloped potatoes
slices of peach pie
sigh as they toss out
last week’s offerings
whisper words of
encouragement before
gently closing the door
relieved to return to their lives
of spring colds, grocery shopping
a scratch on their Honda or Prius
a child’s C in history
but here I stay
feet firmly fixed in silt & clay
not ennobled, not enlightened
no new levels of compassion
for all sentient beings who share
the suffering of impermanence
no volunteering at a local shelter
no book clubs, symphonies or plays
invitations languish in my inbox
I am stuck in a swamp of insomnia
& ceaseless looping memories
that no Prozac can touch
I need you to hold me to
help me let you go
I can’t do it without you
Image: Fog by Evan Lavine via Flickr.
This post originally appeared on The First Day.
