sometimes
july 12, 2010
“will she ever get home?”
sleeping, eating, killing, wondering,
he’s been waiting a day of forever,
the cat will be waiting at the door,
will welcome me.
the books and spoons and dead cockroaches.
aching because I know I’ll eventually get there.
aching
facing the forty minute eternity.
just outside of work
here I am.
my pencils in the closet are sad.
my clothes are missing me,
my cat is hungry
that I’ll never see again.
red and waiting,
I think about my stoop,
I feel as though I won’t make it.
concrete to get through,
so many bends and straitens and so much
there are so many steps to take,
getting home.
it seems an impossible feat,
when I’m standing outside
sometimes.
This poem reminds me of Bruce’s song, It’s Gonna Be a Long Walk Home……yeah, baby, it’s gonna be along walk home…., I think all great artists , and , frankly, even the sucky ones..have made versions on this theme. The sad pencils in the closet is such a beautiful image I want to paint it.
Einstein said if you are looking at a pretty girl, time goes fast, but if you;re sitting on a hot stove, it goes really slowly. Relativity. I hope that your dreams can be the pretty girls in your head while you walk, at least til you can move to a different neighborhood.
You are what sustains me.
Love,
Mama
xoxoxox
are you supposed to read it backwards? because i like it backwards!
Yeah, when is she gonna come home and write another post on this blog. It’s been a very long time…….