In Darkness There is a Blue

Trying to find that color,

searching since a child,

I remember gatherings

with friends my age and teenage elders,

those we all wished to emulate,

sitting amongst ourselves,

laughs, giggles, smiles,

seduction,

every aspect of the human condition,

would enhance this sensation,

our sensory being.

~

I could lay in the middle of a field

soft whisper of midnight breeze

look at the sky, the miles of sky

stars and occasional glints of light,

a shooting star where a wish is missed

so then in that singular moment

a self-critical adamant fear

begins to sweep through the forest

the moment gone now,

left feeling cold in a farmer’s field.

~

Twenty years later, or even more now,

decades of afterthought,

the what-ifs, whens, why nots, the who …

we all want to care about something,

and yet,

lost as I could with every search of word,

would it matter at all,

if one day,

the words just failed to appear.

~

I wonder the beauty of a blue horizon,

is it a state of mind or some intricate light show.


© Thom Amundsen 10/2020

A Reaction of Feeling

A young boy has been shot,

he’s dead,

a police force became another list,

not the boy,

no list attached,

a living human being,

now dead,

shot to death,

after wielding motive suggests

he was suicidal,

didn’t want a recital,

simply wanted to die,

or at least in the mind of a boy,

thought it might work,

wanted something,

wanted someone

to know,

his hurt,

and now …

nobody knows,

but we all realize

he’s dead.

In High School We Believed

Everything

mattered, occurred, became known,

whether we wanted notoriety

or a simple life as a student.

 

Remember walking the halls,

feeling the eyes,

wondering about thinking

that could expose your own state of mind.

 

I remember they told me otherwise,

so I trusted their ideal,

and when the walls caved in

they were nowhere to be found.

 

I remember the rumors,

she was so beautiful,

carried such a wonderful spirit,

no one would understand the hate in mirrors.

 

In high school, we lived many different lives,

some would last a week,

others perhaps a couple of days,

it only mattered if we could find definition.

 

When the word arrived in our mind,

how could we possibly imagine

telling anyone, especially those eyes we were

already afraid of, deathly afraid of knowing.

 

While the world seemed different outside,

internal walls protected our sanity

only when we accepted ourselves in earnest,

if not, we relied upon a mask.

 

Though the transparency, when noticed,

became the final reckoning, we did understand.

always just a little late …