10 January 2012

Running Away

Had we done things differently then
Would now have changed?
A word in another place,
A transposition of a scowl for a smile,
A hand up instead of a push away?

Time drags and festers
In the open wound of memory.
Each junction becomes a dead end,
And every road leads to the same place,
Alone in front of a mirror

Where we cannot hide from ourselves,
And all truths are shown.
No faith, no philosophy nor ideology,
No dogma,
Saves us from us.

2 comments:

  1. great poem, Richard. I keep thinking about stuff like that.

    -sabina

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  2. Ah, now when one of my very favourite people leaves a comment, my day blooms. Thanks, Sabina. R

    ReplyDelete