Temporary solitude in progress
With traffic blocked and roads clear.
Jack hammers chirping incessantly,
Like cicadas searching for mates.
How much imagination must it take?
Before I realize coming here was a mistake?
Everywhere I hear disturbances of nature,
But I live in the moment till reality shows,
That machines have taken over,
And silence is only a reprieve,
A matter of time,
Until their world works forever,
And our garden falls into disarray.
What can I say to myself without lying,
When I hear the silence
And clear my thoughts,
Of weeds and leaves
and fallen berries,
Strewn across the asphalt ground,
without a sound?
without a sound?
I hear time passing in ripples in the river,
A river that does not ask what is happening above,
Unlike me who cannot mask a stepmom,
Disturbing my peace,
penetrating my void,
With angry words about my daughter,
The call of the wild devouring others’ offspring…
I would rather be that egret standing tall as a reed,
Without hearing mechanical sounds drowning daughters,
I do not think we ought to bend
To temporary noises of progress,
solitude of
dissatisfaction
So I put in my earplugs,
put on goggles,
Find water deep enough to silence others’ discontent,
Humbly bending reeds in the way of changing,
Rather than sternly snapping.
January 7, 2020
Copyright © 2020 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved
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