Cheryl E. Fitzgerald (synapsomatic) wrote,
Cheryl E. Fitzgerald

In the mood of Beckett

Aside from all the other bad, difficult and challenging things, and the madness and depression of my life the past several months, my computer broke down a little over a month ago. Since my situation does not afford me the possibility of even trying to see if it could be fixed, or of getting a new one, I am still without a computer, and expect to be for a little while.
Samuel Beckett
what would I do without this world faceless incurious
where to be lasts but an instant where every instant
spills in the void the ignorance of having been
without this wave where in the end
body and shadow together are engulfed
what would I do without this silence where the murmurs die
the pantings the frenzies towards succour towards love
without this sky that soars
above its ballast dust

what would I do what I did yesterday and the day before
peering out of my deadlight looking for another
wandering like me eddying far from all the living
in a convulsive space
among the voices voiceless
that throng my hiddenness

my way is in the sand flowing
between the shingle and the dune
the summer rain rains on my life
on me my life harrying fleeing
to its beginning to its end

my peace is there in the receding mist
when I may cease from treading these long shifting thresholds
and live the space of a door
that opens and shuts
Tags: depression, my life, pain, poetry, stressed, struggling
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