at my desk I welcome another day and the silent invitation to forget about everything I am and lack. I punch keys and slip in and out of meetings wearing different faces. there is time for laughter and serious business and I am good at playing along. when I lose focus there is a world outside my window. I see it through my phone and read about it on the news. the figures are devastating and I feel the weight of anger grow. when I want to cry I remember I am lucky and there are tasks to tend to and spreadsheets to hide in. I seek refuge from reality in windows that mean nothing.
the sky is grey and I close the screen to empty time and space. with a million ways to fill my time I choose to fall into myself. inside there is nothing new. everything is too familiar and I feel restless in my resentment for the way I’ve slipped and let the weeds take over. the garden is overgrown and I continue to disappoint myself. were there flowers to be found, they’d still die at my hands; too much water or thinking or something. the weeping tree in my parents’ garden blossoms for one week each year. I curse another spring of not being there to see it.
change is a memory of a dream I try to paint. the colours blur and I’m still here but the thought should still mean something.
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