Hard To Know by Wayne Allen LeVine

It’s hard to say – it’s hard to know,
it’s hard to be certain; that’s for sure!
Even the morning mist seems rather
tentative – and the mangroves
seem unable to make up their mind.

Although their roots – those arched
protrusions, becoming bridges
in honor of oxygen, growing in the
direction of the light . . . they seem
to have a deep sense of knowing something.

And those thirsty appendages,
bursting forth – the tender, fertile
announcement of another spring.

Although, even the fog seems a tad bit
tired of its own mystique – forever silent,
tight-lipped – surrealistically secretive by design.

But there’s really something else
I want to say; another life, other
than my own, I wish to spotlight;
another story, with a uniquely
different narrative; another odyssey.

And I won’t start from the beginning,
nor the middle, or the end. In fact,
I may not start at all, but
simply leap directly into it nevertheless.

No worries . . . no more clouds of
confusion or chilling winds of despair.
No more shivers of hope, quivers
of compassion, or gasping for air.

No more laughter, no more longing,
no more tears; no more whispers, or
those love songs sung as prayers.
No more emotion – for better or for worse.
No more promises, temporarily kept, before being broken.
No more smiles turning to frowns,
within the
light of yet another disappointment.

No more mischief, no more trouble,
no more grief. No more swimming,
no more dancing, no more begging
for what you
made yourself believe you truly need.

No more nightmares, needless
cynicism or deliberate neglect.
No more need for you to bear the
beautiful weight of this challenging world.

Now those halcyon swans float
freely across the lake you’ve
since abandoned – where wild
horses stop to take a drink.

No more rainy days or stormy nights . . .
No more sad tumultuous misunderstanding
of the life you simply could not figure out.

No more torment, no more agony . . .
no more restless days or sleepless nights.
No more raw nerves – needles and pins;
needles and spoons . . . no more needles!

Wayne Allen LeVine © 2011