a handful of dirt

All week I have had that old wondering

where I sigh and look off and try to make sense

of the world.

 

When I take a handful of dirt and rub it

 in my hands and stand tiptoes and look

up, look in, look around

 

Some ideologies

 are beautiful and soothing but

they don’t help a body come

to grips with the uncertainty

 

Some days it is very

hard to grip a thing

 

 

Today they put violets

on top of your dead body.

I kicked them off

 

Don’t block the dead, I said

but they didn’t hear me. 

They were going to get coffee.

 

 I stayed in the wind and rain

and wondered and wondered

until I was too wet to wonder

 so I wandered into a bar

and had a glass of fuck it all

 

There was a man back from a war

who stared at my eyelids and said,

“don’t be sad” and I said,

I am not here to change anything, so you can smile

at the daisy’s heads popping up but I am

going to sit here and be sad and drink and think

dark thoughts about the pointlessness of it all

then I am going to go home and start tomorrow, tomorrow

as long as the sun gets up,

 

I will too but for right now, right now

 there is a coffin to carry and bury,  getting wet in the rain  

and the war hero said, “Don’t be so sad.”

Author: annieepoetry

I am poet. I am woman. I write with my thumbs. Read my poems. Tell me what You think. You may find the love poem you always thought someone wrote for you. Or the one you meant to write But Becareful lovers tell zingers and often break hearts Milky Way Earth U.S.A Madison WI

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