This poem explores the unclear waters of the never-ending task - healing.
Murky Waters of Infinite Growth
Anger and grief are one in the same
& sometimes they play this little game.
A foolish old race to the finish line;
No wonder our feelings don't always align.
At the end of the day when all's said & done,
Do you take off the mask? Do you keep it & run?
Run to the hills as if choice doesn't matter,
Hoping a new quest will make the pain scatter?
Or do you settle in to let out a cry,
Reminding yourself you may never know why?
Why humans do the things they do -
& why they leave so much residue.
I scrub and I scrub, as if it'll change;
As if human nature won't stay the same...
Yet I know very well that time and again,
Someone I'd hoped could stay a friend
Will leave new remains every here and there -
Parts that aren't meant to be repaired.
The pile slowly grows, and with zilch to do,
I ponder the pieces, choosing something new -
Something that speaks to my distinct eye,
As I peer through the lens of my latest goodbye.
Inspecting the fragment I hunker down,
Investing precision to build this crown.
I weave and I weave, picking pieces that drop;
This tedious job pairs with hands that won't stop.
Until the day I'm out of breath;
Until my hands are forced to rest.
Until I've learned all I came here for,
To add to my existential lore.
While you're learning,
There's always, ALWAYS more...