At the end of the world
We will walk down
The road
Together
There will be no time
For jam or tea
All there will be
Is survival
It's the same
As now then
She whispers
And I agree
We inhabit
Our own apocalypse
Lying still
Underneath the window
Our feet hurt
When we walk
And we have baggage
Like a shopping trolley
Full of supplies
Inevitable that we will lose
Perhaps we will be happy
That we are taking
The journey together
Perhaps the dust
The cold
The grey
Will become as familiar
As the red bed
In the end of course
I will have to leave you
Only the young
Can move on
Survive
That would make me cry
But I would not show you
I would leave you
In the care of someone else
Maybe without me
You will grow
Never
She stamps her feet
Then on we must journey
Limping and tired
On this never ending
Road.
"We inhabit our own apocalypse" is a very apt view. I feel like that too, as forests not too far from me are burning. "Then on we must journey", however tired, to see where the path will lead us. Wonderful writing, Jae.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing On we go It's the journey that counts and we have a saying in Holland shared fun is double fun and shared grief is halve the grief.
ReplyDeleteThe way you write your poems makes the reader enter right in.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Rosemary. You have drawn me right into your room beneath the window, thinking wearily of the journey ahead and feeling like it will be never-ending.
ReplyDeleteI read your (lovely) poem with the feeling that it was the end of time for the writer ... that life on Earth would continue, those remaining would be lovingly cared for, writer's worries abated. Of course I could be wrong. LOL.
ReplyDeleteSometimes an explanation can't suffice, Yet you have beautifully explained....then on we must...... how true.
ReplyDeleteYour poem touches me. Sometimes the journey is longer than the road.
ReplyDelete