no creativity. just a lot of blahblah poor me. working in a warehouse, 3rd time in 3 years. grateful to have the work, just sad remembering what was lost. so this pity poem's the best I can do just now. click my last post for something slightly more inspiring.... Dawn

Then I worked alongside
you. I used my mind. I was
following heart of my heart,
living in spirit and truth.

Now I climb high on ladders
and scramble back down again,
always afraid of falling, of never
really going anywhere.

But I go all day, back and forth,
picking products off row after row
after row of warehouse shelves,
then dragging heavy bags

Across cold concrete, I am
further chilled by sudden memory
of pivotal December past.
Spinning in pain, I fast forward

But pause and picture you again,
sitting straight in your padded chair
somewhere, and I know you
wouldn’t even care

Even if you knew all you
never knew, all I know you still
don’t know. Still sharpening
pencils, making your point,

you’ll always erase whatever
just doesn’t suit you. Nothing
reminds you of me, but even
these blasted walkie-talkies

Reek of your remembrance
for me. And this donut shop coffee
leaves a bitter taste in my mouth,
and I want no more

Of songs about angels. Weary
of lifting suitcase boxes and packing
other people’s gifts, it seems I’m stuck,
slogging through my now and then.