Writing

A tired circle

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Celtic knots: One of my favorite symbols. The connection to the Christian faith, equating it to God’s love – with no beginning or end, was an idea that I needed to believe in during my tumultuous adolescent years, which is probably why I always felt so connected to it. But it also puts me in mind of a poem I wrote, which I wanted to share today.

A TIRED CIRCLE

Anguish
Coursing through me–
Heavy raindrops beating the pavement

No arms wrap my sadness away.
No jacket in the cold of winter.

I am a lilting melody,
Sweet despondent music …
Life in a minor key.

This is a perpetual circle
Like sitting on a merry-go-round
Unable to stop the dizzying spin.

Minutes drop by like syrupy molasses on the snow –
Ticking our lives away,
As waves that pound the shore
Eat away the land.

Time becomes a painful bandage
To cover the wounds and scars
Yet never allows them to heal

Life becomes stagnant
Like the bleak long-lasting winter –
Shades of gray and brown

Still time drifts forward,
Gently pulling me with it

Life refuses to wait.

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