Before the Blink
to the silent K
this is a poem about hope
the killing kind of hope
and the hopeful kind of hope
ink flows fluid
but these words menacingly meander
from a mind so overwhelmed with change
that it has stalled out into a blank stare
a flat line wandering an open prairie
not realizing the horizon is not a sign of life
but a reminder of sight
and sight is a reminder of existence
and existence - filling unwanting lungs with air
and not holding on to forever for the exhale -
existence the realization of real weight
and it's the atmosphere -
the very air I breathe
that's causing the pressure
but pressure keeps us grounded
and pressure incites eruptions
but again, this is about hope
hope is real, even beyond cynicism
it's a belief in a better tomorrow
but blind hope is a trap equivalent to faith
I got to see what it is I'm hoping for
vision with clarity
is blinking to renew the moisture in my eyes
hoping each time I lift my eyelid
I'll see something
anything
better than before the blink
April 11, 2006