the world has not changed.
the view from my verandah
is just the same as yesterday.
life has continued.
i am alone,
i carry my own load.
whether i sink or swim,
live or die,
succeed or fail,
laugh or cry,
win or lose,
wake or sleep,
whether i am
or am not,
the world continues
in spite of me,
and i wonder
why.
why am I,
who am I,
what am I,
does it matter?
Will the burnt dust that will
eventually mark my existance
add anything to the tonnes of ashes
that have preceded me?
The sun will rise,
the birds will sings,
mankind will continue
to hate,
kill,
maim,
blame,
and
even eternity
will remain
unmoved.

Tuesday
is the same as
Monday.

where do i take my disappointments?
What less divine heart will hear?
will any of those who carry the whips,
poison pens,
barbs,
darts,
turn and embrace?
Even those who
have turned my dreams
into a rude awakening,
will they close their eyes
to share my nightmares?
Will they skip into their own resolutions,
leaving me alone to pick up the silent,
unresolved shards of trust.

i question why divine love so quickly celebrates healing
with songs and dances,
and all manner of spiritual babble,
whilst i stil reel from all that is
forgiven
and restored
and
forgotten.

oh God,
we still dance around your agony
with clapping
waiting for you to die
again,
greedily hastening the moment
when our victims cry
can be buried with you
and we can ignorantly point to an empty grave
and a stone
that was rolled away.

The world has not changed.
my world will not
ever
shed a tear.

I am alone
again.

and it's Tuesday
again.

I am not Billy,
Father,
husband,
friend,
lover,
famous,
infamous,
praised,
criticised,
noticed,
ignored,
I am
me
again.

I am
alone.