If distraction were meant to heal

then how in the world could we feel.

We seem to believe we must move forward.

How do we prevent not being so toward?

~

Wish we some peace when hell seems to thrive

when each moment our pains echo our lives.

Speak upon the courtesy of a fear

even when that risk is losing someone dear.

~

Aren’t we told to navigate our word,

contemplate thresholds without the absurd

actions of that disparate contrived, bellow.

Would that life could live a moment mellow.

~

A frame of reference certainly the goal

to avoid at all cost that spiraling hole.

Where gifts of nature quietly disappear

life seems different, reminds one to appear.

 

 

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© Thom Amundsen 10/2021