Where I've Been

I don't know who I am at this point, so I find
It hard to write. I'm not the person who I was
For decades: hale, though also glum and hateful,
Heart, though hard, on his own shirtsleeve,
Mind in the suburban mold, given to examining
The "facts" of its existence until facts of all sorts
Ceased to be; the mind which flat outthought

I am not that person now, not hale. The essence
Of my being is the pain which never leaves,
And the exhaustion in its wake. I sleep to try
To get away. I have no other goals in life.
To write? What would I write about? The pain
Is huge, but doubly dull. It leaves me without
Much to say. I need to learn who I've become,
And will, with my suburban mind, but, for the
Moment, I am clueless. I just want to sleep.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2017-12-21 at 19:25

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
My dear friend, I can feel your pain palpably as it mirrors itself, albeit much less intensely, in my own body. I pray for your strength to endure what will be. You have much of significant value to share with us. Your command of words and emotion Has never failed you and never will. Witness this piece I have just read. It impacted me viscerally. I wait anxiously for your future works describing your victory over this huge and heavy challenge.

It's times like these when you should follow your own advice and sleep.