By Caleb Powell
I run from place
to place in my mind
with no schedule to slow things down.
I have not eaten.
I forgot to drink water.
I should have gone
to bed sooner.
The day is slow,
everyone talks
and yet nothing is said.
I nearly tripped over
thin air, while distracted
by the thought train
in my head.
Should I apologize?
Should I offer encouragement?
Should I try to give advice?
Would my words even help?
Would my words even help?
Now there is a thought
that conjures up something else.
Food for a hungry mind
that grumbles as it drags behind.
Ah, I forgot the patterns of my life.
How quickly should I breathe?
Do I always walk this slow?
Someone just passed me
on the sidewalk,
can they hear my struggle
to find breath?
Great, now I have forgotten
the thought that conjured thought.
Must not have been impo-
Wait.
Important.
Words,
that’s right.
Are my words enough
to make a difference?
Words are a strange thing,
They’re all made up;
and sometimes the meaning
behind them is too.
Weird how much value
we place on words when
so little of them are true.
