although my eyes were open/ they might have just as well’ve been closed

Photo by aless Con on Unsplash

Fragile, the feeling that brought me down here,
to a coast of wind and sand and trees and fear
the lines we draw to separate present and past
cannot be trusted, crumble into dust, do not last
I fear.

Head slumped, meandering along this wicked way,
a stream of consciousness pointing back towards the day
when I stumbled and panicked, wind blasts through the trees,
and, in truth, I am thinking, I must live my life
or freeze.

Walking the line, as we’re counting the dead,
all sense of normality, buried or fled,
the glimmer of eventide in candle-lit dread
only gloom at my meeting with the fates
conducted, I am afraid to say, via Zoom.

?si=vIAulRl7apkGuRdp