The more time goes on
The further away from the truth I seem to go.
I’m living from a distance
And I haven’t got there yet
My mind has been diverted
Forcefully bypassing pain
I’d like to heal my wounds
But I can’t go that way again
Living is a mishap
Each moment harries and disarrays
The winding movements of time
And the fragmenting of new ways
It’s funny when
Your face seems as cold and as craggy
As a Cobo rock
As if all those years of living down there
Have transmuted you inwardly?
And silence stifles between us
Like a reproach!
You sit, square shouldered
And I wonder.
© Copyright Christopher J. Hudson (1997)
