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.