Structures

There is a sky scraper inside me…. forty stories high… filled with a thousand people who are all terrified.. That their desk job is eating their life… Knowing that it’s hard to be grounded when you’re so up high.. Taking comfort only in the horizon.

There is a catholic church inside me.. Red stained glass windows give rose colored glasses to the whole crowd.. Virgin Mary beloved mother… Lay down for your sacrifice… Come back to me when we take the blame off Eve…

There’s a campsite inside me… some place to get away and feel like there isn’t the same sky scraper five miles away..thick brambles and fruit trees and mosquitoes.. None of that RV bullshit we all know that’s not camping.. Put away the sustenance so the clawing bears don’t get it..  They have a hunger, too..

There is a bank inside me.. exchanging a currency of fear.. if that’s any different than actual currency I don’t know.. but a bank none-the-less.. opening the vault for those who are granted, and indebting those who have done wrong…indebting myself for the same.. All the bank tellers are counting down the days until retirement… I’m counting with them.. 

There’s a old folk home inside me… A cinderblock building with tired aids…. scrubbed white, and squeaky clean.. Blocked away from outside color.. Mixing primary colors on Thursday for fingerpainting won’t do the vivid hues justice… Bingo won’t pop the lock.. in that building they will die waiting for their magic calling card…

There is a river inside me… Something free and not laid on the foundation of concrete… Unbound, unchecked and uncontrollable by humans… Gushing and hissing… paramount to the structures it envelopes… With time and with reason.. I believe the river will cut through the stone, flood the basements and rot the foundation.. of the man made constructs within me... Until I can firmly fit…blend… and rest.. Lying down next to mother earth. 

A poem after "Wilderness" by Carl Sandburg