Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Wish you were here

Pink Floyd said it best:

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, 
blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange a walk on part in the war 
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, 
year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.


For me, right now, the "you" is... me.
Not anybody else.
The process of finding one's self again is a long one,
Banked by sharp thorn bushes
and deep muddy ditches.

There are good days and there are bad days.

Days go by where my brain is on neutral, numb, automatic gear:
Get through this day,
Get through this day,
Get through this day.

And then there are days where everything is possible,
anything can be done, lived, imagined!

Many days I miss my mom, I miss my dad, my family.
They are my roots and my anchors
And yet sometimes when I'm around them
I feel more lost than ever.
Why is this so?

Drinking the coffee now,
Getting through the day's work
In anticipation of a good night's sleep, 
If that's even possible anymore.

I think I need a vacation.

1 comment:

Curly said...
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