I Hurt Just the Same

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I don't feel well today
Reverberating echos of broken dreams
Aching pervasive guilt
Persistent pointless hope
That will not stay snuffed out
Nothing is wrong
And I hurt just the same

I don't feel well today
The sun still rose in a misty pink sky
The flowers are blooming and busy with bees
Birds sing songs of spring awakening
Amongst the newly sprouted leaves
Nothing is wrong
And I hurt just the same

I don't feel well today
Warm afternoon sunlight dries tears
That slip from beneath my sunglasses
The world assaults my senses
Too loud, bright, fast
Nothing is wrong
And I hurt just the same

I don't feel well today
I am told that time heals
That I'm doing the right things
That I didn't cause it
I can't control or cure it
Nothing is wrong
And I hurt just the same

-gws

Ecstasy

(A palinode to Grief)
Ecstasy illuminates 
It amplifies joy
Making time feel inconsequential
Grounding me deep in the moment
Called by the here and now
Allowing full presence in the experience of it
Ecstasy demands we be seated in our bodies
To experience pleasure
And laughter
And belonging as part of the great tapestry of living
Our senses acute and engaged
Begging we greedily partake
In the gifts that life offers
Richly
Vividly
Intricately
With all of our senses
Inciting never ending curiosity
And a desire for the bliss of it to never end

-gws

Where did you go?

Originally written 1/25/2005
Photo by Marcelo Jaboo on Pexels.com
Where did you go?
Are you warm?
Are you cold?
Is there weather there?
Where did you go?
Was it hard to get there?
Do you miss what you left behind?
Where did you go?
Were you scared to go?
Can you come back to visit?
Have you tried?
Do you miss me?
Where did you go
when you left me here to wonder?
Where did you go
when you escaped your failing prison on a single fragile breath?
Where did you go?
Because I want you to come back.
-gws

Resentment

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Sitting deep in my resentments
Realizing they stem from loss and sorrow
Of dreams eviscerated
Of hard work and sweat made irrelevant
Of a vision shattered and danced upon
As if it was the wicked witch’s grave
Years of work wiped away
Passions extinguished leaving a scarred ruin of what was wonderful 
Hope of resurrection gasping away the opportunity for salvation with each passing day
-gws