ellipsis of the soul

Who! Who! Who! 3 am, owl in the trees asks and I do not know. I do not like my dreams. The anger and fighting – everything unresolved.

Who! Who! Who! 4 am, owl in the trees asks and I still do not know. Restless sleep. I remember failure, the young who died and we could not save. Fifty years on, I’m still trying to clamp the bleeders and we cannot find them all.

Who! Who! Who! 4:30 am, owl in the trees asks, again. I get up and tell myself to keep trudging onward. I apologize to the souls of the ones who quit; who I could not inspire to go on or I did not know were struggling.

In my head, I design a Zen garden with flowers, bamboo, goldfish as big as my hand, water lilies where frogs sit and sing. Lines raked in the sand all flow inward. I contemplate seppuku. No one will lend me their tanto; anyway, I have writer’s block and cannot write my death poem.

I wish I were wiser and could fix what’s broken in me. My jagged pieces obscured by blood, I cannot find all the bleeders and I do not know what glue to use.

I place the pieces I can find in a box under my desk, wait for sunrise to come and I will go stand for prayers with the sun at my back…gazing out at my shadow.

5-7-24