Bag of Hammers (A Poem)

Sometimes I am dumb as a bag of hammers

I lay in the middle of the night

Soaking in other people’s obsessions

Afraid I might not sleep

Lost and stripped of direction

And I eventually stumble, dizzy and ready to collapse

Desperate to avoid another lost opportunity

Shedding my past obsessions

Afraid I might not wake

Wishing I didn’t need direction

Sometimes I am dumb as a bag of hammers

And even my words fails to rise,

Afraid of even a whisper’s wind,

Meagre of the word poetry.

 

Photo: The Princess Avenue Playhouse in St. Thomas Ontario.

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