I shout on rooftops
to myself.
Loud, trembling -
grasping at the words
the lessons
and the parts that matter most.
I’m quiet elsewhere, everywhere,
and quite tired, always.
It’s others’ voices, always.
From me and them.
I find myself, lost.
Stunted
and still.
Thoughts muffled and changed.
Waiting for instruction that could come too easily -
it’s wanted reluctantly. Slurped up restfully.
As it comes knocking, knocking,
knocking from years ago.
It’s all too familiar now. All too draining.
All wrong.
Blurred mirrors and misheard mantras.
Lost, again.









