It’s a famine of the soul
a fight for your existence
but only you know about it
and how truly thirsty you are.
Searching in the darkness, the swamps, the okefenokee
for some sort of cryptic freestyle meaning
lightning bolt, or eureka moment
but there are none.
or maybe just
none for you.
Waiting
in misery
for an epiphany
that never comes.
rocking back and forth
getting lonely
you fill your saddle bag with water
because you’re on a trek
to the desert,
the high country
mountain cliffs where winds blow swift
and bones crack loudly
hairs prickle
on your arm
as a mountain lion roars
and at long last
light breaks through the clouds
to christen you a new found king
master of your own destiny
finally
maybe you can have it.
just over the hill
down there.
-
Author:
Justin Edse (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 20th, 2023 08:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
I can sense the attention to detail and connecting it to the mystery of the past, coming from an “old soul” poet. Good poem.
Thank you so much Parisab! I appreciate the feedback! Writing this poem felt very natural almost like I was being guided by something.
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