Poetry

How To Be (Monday through Sunday, and back again)

March 28, 2009

Tomorrow is a slice of heaven’s wake
as night slowly fights its way to day
Sunday is a sabbath fest
with the world finding itself unable to rest

Sometimes we detest the dark
other times I can’t stand the light
but no matter where I am I’m always far
from everything I want to find

Monday is a sanctuary sort
a place of grays that are always sure
Ice lodged beneath Tuesday’s fingernails
leaving the telling of another taller tale

Sometimes we detest the dark
other times I can’t stand the light
but no matter where I am I’m always far
from everything I want to find

Wednesday never saved a soul
with the evening meetings that swear to make us whole
Or Thursday mornings, lieing in wait
tender from another purchase made

Sometimes we detest the dark
other times I can’t stand the light
but no matter where I am I’m always far
from everything I want to find

Friday pushes an end to violence
leading on to that weekend bent
Hung over on Saturday’s dregs
throwing curses back at Sunday’s fence

With the next day always barely in sight
I can hardly ever breathe
With the speed of all the moving
I think I’ve forgotten how to be
so I’ll take a moment, and sink into it
until this mountain becomes a fire

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