365 Poems – 142 Moving On (Rough First Draft)

 

Moving On

I am alone, walking for miles

across frozen seas.

 

I haven’t just become

depressed. It isn’t a shock,

like a close friend unexpectedly dying,

 

or a whale washing up dead,

on a gritty shore, with a chemical

industry backdrop.

 

I cover every sigh with my hands,

however deep, or shallow,

however laboured or easy,

even though there is nobody

here to hear me.

 

I open the drawers of my heart

at the bleakest hour. I don’t need

extra space. I just want what

is empty to be filled.

 

The stars are pinned to the headland.

I have a long way to go

until I reach them.

 

I lie desolate on the ice, from night

until morning, then have a competition

with the sky, to see who can cry

for the longest.  

 

I would like to listen to second-hand

sounds of the day, and peel the skins

off grapes with my teeth. But I can’t

go back the way I came.  

 

There is only open water,

which would kill me in seconds,

and oddly enough, I don’t want that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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