Too busy for

That sharp ache,

Somewhere under

This skin’s surface beating,


In some other reality.

Slow my breathing.


Too tired to think

About summer’s sunshine,


And wild grass playing

On a mountainside.

Turn my pillow over.


In the fragrance of a flower,

In the brilliance of the sun rising,

In the teasing notes of music,

Bits of beauty,

Sound-bites gnawing,

Monsters of attachment,

In the shadows of memory.


Without a word,

Or a warning,

The rain is pouring down,

Soaking the ground around me

And somewhere,

Just somewhere,

In my unknowing,

In my unwanting,

It’s okay.

KKLE November 6, 2013


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© Karen K.L.Espaniola and 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Karen K.L. Espaniola and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.