Locked Out–Because You Can Never Know:
So the thing about writing about experience–personal or not–is that you can never really know what the other person thinks. Or what the other’s opinion of the situation is. In a way, all parties are locked into their individual experiences, locked out of knowing what others feel.
Not matter how close you might be, no matter what the other person might tell you, you can never truly see it the same way the other does. You can see perfectly through another person’s eyes. The bits and pieces you pick up, you latch onto, may mean nothing to them.
That uncertainty is the sort of feeling behind this week’s poem: Locked.
Locked
I was locked out the moment he split his skull open
and he was locked in, the same.
One of us stepped outside the ambulance and watched
lights into the distance fade.
One took a ride downtown with mother and others,
memorizing the sirens.
Like tinnitus. Sisyphus tethered always. Like
a long road, contracting, extending.
I know there was no other option, only to push
forward, disappointment I
create notwithstanding. No escapes; that’s a myth.
The railed bed, singularity,
unavoidable. Sunfish left in a bucket.
The piercing stubbled field: cut corn.
If you enjoyed Locked
You’ll find more of my poems on this blog or in the collection Stars Crawl Out From Their Caves, which is available in both ebook and print. Missed a poem of the week? Links to prior weeks are on this page.
Like many of the photos which are used on this site, today’s featured photo comes from Pixabay.com and their creative commons zero collection — meaning free for use no matter if used commercially or not. If you are looking for a variety of photos for similar needs, I suggest you set up an account on Pixabay.
This week is a big one in our household. We’ll take our oldest off to college for the first time. Cross your fingers, I think it will be a roller-coaster of a week for us. Then next week, our youngest starts high school. Where in the world have the years gone?
Have a great week!