Poem for a sunny Saturday afternoon

A predisposition to dark thoughts and negative thinking

Sad and worried old woman

Sad and worried old woman (Photo credit: SalFalko)

I’m convinced there are two types of people in the world

maybe more, at least two. Those who are care-full

glass barely at the half, wearing the gaze of others like a brand sear

the turning of heads like a slap, words spoken or withheld

a sieve with wide holes, draining.

And those who don’t.

(And if this is not true, please stop telling me

you don’t care what others think, stop saying

the world is tinted pink.) Please.

Because the rest of us, we do try

to begin with positive intent, wide mouths

and hearts open in rooms of strangers, for a fleeting hour

feel we’ve got it, found it, sweet notes lingering on

our tongues. We sing, sway tentatively to a song

we know we’ve heard some place before

then doubt what we did, what we saw, what we heard

wake tormented.  Should, could, didn’t do

walk weighted. Long for the lightness

of another world view. The one with the

all things working and all shall be well,

that view, fade to grey.

As if we wouldn’t choose

(our perception of) an easy burden

a way of sloughing off, dancing on, head high.

As if we clench our troubled thoughts in careful fingers

like small candles, barely lit enough

to cast a shadow as we shuffle home.