I follow thoughts that lead me to despair.
I take their hands and turn them. We head home.
They show me homes that are no longer there
if they ever were. Despair strips comfort bare.
Be rational, I think. That makes things worse.
At the end of time clear vision is a curse.
The jackdaw lands before me, caws my name.
It enquires why I am wasting hours moping.
‘You’re alive. Why are you kicking? You’re not lame
except in chances that you let escape by hoping
for a perfect world you are proof does not exist.’
I try to think things through. The jackdaw flies
before me. Wings beat on my dismal thoughts
until they are exposed for what they are.
I laugh and chase the morning and the bird.
Oh, Alan, this poem so resonated with me as I read it this morning. For the past week I’ve felt much the same way, surrounded by the insanity of the world that I feel helpless to change. Thank you for letting the jackdaw flutter its wings in my face today too.
Many thanks, Elise. Viva the jackdaw!
Superb poem, Alan..
Thank you, Francina.
Once again, great last line, really pushes the poem home!
Thank you, Dave.