stealing another day ...
© Kennedy James. All rights reserved.
i've been thinking too much lately
searching for a safe harbour
where i might rest
from the storm of daily living
too easily forgetting
that the agony of loneliness
simply tests the waters
that ebb and flow
along the shoreline
and blur the line
in the sand
that divides presence
from absence
and a last embrace
from certain departure
i've been calling in favours
settling the imbalances
of a life lived
on a skiff lost at sea
tossed and turned over
with salt-encrusted eyelids
and hands rippling
with blisters
only on the rarest occasion
catching a fresh breath
from a cooling breeze
that like a childhood dream
disappears in the
next instance
i've been letting go
passing worthless trinkets
off as priceless treasures
and offering them
to son or daughter
who watch in desperation
and dismay
it hardly matters
that my feet are wet
from the flood of
a father's sweat
that my hands shake
from reaching out
and catching hold
of something even
less substantial
than air
i've been hoping for the best
buoying up my spirits
when the crest of sadness
washes over me
and leaves me drowning
in the depths
of crumpling regret
but i remember
to carry on
and steal another day
and maybe it's because
i can still hear
your voice
warming my spirit
with the simplest words
that remind me
how after every crash
after the heartache
of every shipwreck
there is still a someone
in the wreckage who
whether alive or dead
needs tending
searching for a safe harbour
where i might rest
from the storm of daily living
too easily forgetting
that the agony of loneliness
simply tests the waters
that ebb and flow
along the shoreline
and blur the line
in the sand
that divides presence
from absence
and a last embrace
from certain departure
i've been calling in favours
settling the imbalances
of a life lived
on a skiff lost at sea
tossed and turned over
with salt-encrusted eyelids
and hands rippling
with blisters
only on the rarest occasion
catching a fresh breath
from a cooling breeze
that like a childhood dream
disappears in the
next instance
i've been letting go
passing worthless trinkets
off as priceless treasures
and offering them
to son or daughter
who watch in desperation
and dismay
it hardly matters
that my feet are wet
from the flood of
a father's sweat
that my hands shake
from reaching out
and catching hold
of something even
less substantial
than air
i've been hoping for the best
buoying up my spirits
when the crest of sadness
washes over me
and leaves me drowning
in the depths
of crumpling regret
but i remember
to carry on
and steal another day
and maybe it's because
i can still hear
your voice
warming my spirit
with the simplest words
that remind me
how after every crash
after the heartache
of every shipwreck
there is still a someone
in the wreckage who
whether alive or dead
needs tending
© Kennedy James. All rights reserved.
Just the other day, a very wise man reminded me of something: Life is not about the destination ... it's about the journey. xxx
ReplyDeleteYes ... we carry on ...
Deletei've been letting go
ReplyDeletepassing worthless trinkets
off as priceless treasures
Seems we all have such worthless trinkets, physical and mental, which to us are priceless treasures, meaningless to anyone, but us alone.
~Manfred
Funny how we collect things ... and people ...
DeleteA day like Indian summer. When you enjoy even the faded flowers, the blowed leaves and your last hot shivers and your unfulfilled prayers and when your wealth becomes poorer even when the day is in gilded paint…because everything already is towards the last and everything loses its traces…
ReplyDeletethis makes one's heart heavy...
ReplyDelete