How liberating it would be
To just hoist the flag and claim defeat
And silence this juggernaut of voices
Before all my hair and skin are lost
It's plain to see: this weariness upon the shoulders
Is weighing down on my pretense
And no more tears are left
And I am bereft
Of all dream and drama
And yet I realize I am writing, time frozen:
I choose each word
Carefully
Knowing I won't ever run out of lines
Even if it all loses momentum
After I realize I am writing them.
And so there is me and a legion of others in me.
How liberating it would be
To just hoist a flag and ask for a truce
And silence the voices of this army
And hear the birds and the water
Amidst a desert just waiting for an explosion of life.
