Sacred Days – New Poem 1st draft
Where have all the shadows gone?
I want to run and find them,
until my loud heart finds a way out,
and I can hide, quietly, hands tight over my mouth
until the difficult times are over.
My day has become my everything.
I dread the phone ringing, the door going.
I have my system now,
work days around my ‘to do’ list.
But every now and then,
I’ll think about the summer house in Norway,
the red kayak on a Canadian lake,
and eating more than stir fry
made with onions, carrots and celery.
I’ll think about the kids I want,
and the dog I need,
and the music,
and the books,
and the solid, well made cups that won’t smash
when they fall the first, second or third time.
Haven’t been for the interview yet,
don’t know if I’ll be successful,
but already I’m looking forward
to the days I’m off too sick to move,
and can stay in bed, alone, and read,
when I can my full day back,
and she isn’t carved up and lost
to the crowds.