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When I Sit Here And Try Writing My Lines
i sit here again
trying to repeat what it is necessary to be repeated
face the screen
think about the past
rekindle
make more light
come inside me
adjusting the shutters
i am retracing what i had
the peace and the
quiet of my being
i just lost it
and i am trembling trying to explain
what happened
why my guts have become so emptied
and drained
why my thoughts are scattered like
machine gun bullets
not hitting any point
any pole
perhaps something
or someone will come along
and carry me
and help me find the map
towards
my castle my paradise
my resting place
my home again
i sit again and write some lines
perhaps they will have the courage and wisdom to tell me
why and how
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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