Saturday, December 18, 2010

The Lonely Gather Like Sheep These Nights

Water trickles down the stone walls and puddles gather, revealing the uneven ground.
I noticed today the yellow leaves and mossy benches along the sidewalk. 
I noticed also how lonely people gather together like sheep in the cold.

I see what could have been.
A cold tear trickling down my face at times
And I know that if I had stayed in that old town, my home town,
I would have fallen asleep.
Grey hairs sprouting, and wrinkles curving their way into my skin.
It’s a place of death. Of lost friends and dreams that failed.
It’s a place where you always wish you were somewhere else, But coming back somehow is a comfort.
Well, in theory it’s comforting, for a while.

Now the rain is falling harder.
The moon is obscured by fog
And the night is black ink.
My senses only capture a lovely sound tonight, swirling about.
People say rain is when God cries and I say not.
It’s a million angels snapping their fingers, clapping and tap dancing.

These past few nights, hardly any of us have slept adequately,
Yet I never felt closer to any of you.
We were gathered at the hardest time of year, pulling each other along.
I hardly know what it means to be awake anymore.
I hardly know what it means to be alone.
A sleep over, heart to heart talks, good coffee, movies and tears.
A long walk in the falling trees under a dripping foggy sky. 

I trip sometimes on the uneven ground, or slip in the puddles.
Currently, my warmest boots are the most wet.
But let’s take a walk anyway, again,
Because lonely people are here today, gathered like sheep.

The rain slows and my bed starts to feel increasingly like sinking sand.
Eye lids slightly falling…

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