Another Day

Cool water gushed from the showerhead,
pounding, cleansing, washing away
more than dirt,
an ablutionary ritual,
my wallowing spirit
needing, thirsting for relief.

Relief! Because at night’s end
I’m filled with unending sorrow
for years lost, suspended
in a meaningless vacuum,
down in a pit of unclear substance…
it’s an endless fight…
climbing out of the hole,
looking for myself in the dark.

I question my identity.

And you say you’ll always love me,
but you don’t like me any more.
I’m aggressive, sharp, and unyielding.
Damn right!
Soft edges got me minimum wage,
and a token fifty at year’s end;
I need to stay alive.

I struggle for a dim semblance of sanity
because that which I must be to survive,
juxtaposes what I am at heart.
Is there no middle ground
where minds blend in common understanding?
I guess not!
It is a dog eat dog kind of world
in which survival overrides living.

I question my identity...

and at night, I disappear under the sheets,
wanting to drift into unconsciousness,
not able to, tossing, turning, turning…
Stop!

I want to know who, or what ‘I’ is,
and what it stands for.
I want a clear passage from where I stand
into my true self – not just an opened door,
but vanishing walls, wide open spaces;
a clear passage to freedom
without definitions, conditions,
compromise or conformity.

Cool water gushed from the showerhead,
pounding, cleansing, washing away
more than dirt,
an ablutionary ritual,
falling in torrential forgiveness,
and just briefly, I feel lighter than air.

I step outside and breathe the summer morning,
I sort through my key ring,
start the car – I’m on my way,
it will be another day at work.

Carmen Ruggero © 2004