I wrote this poem on a bus on the way to one of my tutoring jobs. It was a long bus ride. Actually, I think I had to go back to it and continue on the way home, too.

As you can probably tell, I was having a rough day/week/month/semester. :)

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The Wasteland Within

Copyright © February 2000

I fill up my time,
leaving no room to pause,
to catch one’s breath,
pushing my focus
always onwards.
Otherwise, I think too much;
my mind wanders without fail
to the overplayed thoughts of solitude,
cursing the unfair world,
for its harshness
in denying me the warmth of friendship,
the blissful release of intimacy.Instead I bear a curse,
of bleak loneliness,
and carry its unforgiving worries
on my strained mind.
My mood is constant darkness,
emotions plagued by endless tempests,
and brief moments of sunshine,
when I gather the strength
to flit above the storm,
only to be drawn back down
by the blackness in my soul,
to be forever buried in the dark,
assaulted by chill winds and bitter stones.

No, there is no escaping my thoughts,
nor the faces, smiles and laughs,
of beautiful, caring people
teasing me with their heavenly glow,
permeating every atom of the world.
They go about their lives,
their senses bending around me,
an invisible nothing,
while my soul,
sheathed in pitch,
and yet so bright, caring, and patient,
in the moments I soar free,
reaches out, searching, helping, smiling,
questing for some purchase,
a spirit to lend a hand, a smile,
a heart…
and finds nothing,
so plummets back
to the bitter wasteland within.