th ough t s

they’re rustling again
dry leaves tumbling by

don’t grab them
it’s no blasphemy

to let them go
you don’t need to keep them

or even hold them
open your hands

and let the plague
drift away

back to the monkeys
and their busy minds

smell the sweet air
feel the shifting deck

beneath your feet
rising and falling

earthen waves
in geologic time

here before you were
born whole

and here long after you
no tears

no effort
no will

no thoughts
no you

/ / /

This poem was written in response to Wordle 203 at The Sunday Whirl.

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15 thoughts on “th ough t s

  1. Ooooh….I really, really like this idea that we don’t HAVE TO grab them….we can let them go, we don’t have to keep them or even hold them, but can just let the plague drift away. Love that. I tend to run after the plague and say, “But, wait…you haven’t infected me yet, here, let me grab you and rub you all over my body to make sure I’m good and done for before you leave.” 😛 Your whole message here is so freeing. And it also has such an existential feel to it. Great poem. Thank you for sharing 🙂

    • Thank you. I tried to leave a comment on your poem, but failed miserably. I need to figure out which log-in works well with Blogger. Sorry. But thanks for reading my poem.

  2. This is beyond good, Richard. I echo the others, good to have you back. Sorry for the late visit. Had some computer woes, which have been taken care of. I am typing from my “new” laptop. Thanks to a wonderful and beautiful daughter. 🙂

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