Sara Jama Poet Free verse

Silently Sweeping Thoughts

I stay situated 
    upon an antique
dusty leather chair
as the scent 
   of incense invokes snippets  
of half-written pages 
       from my past...
thunder gently rolls 
       in from the yonder  
while I dive deeper into the          
ramshackle that was my life....

forty past midnight 
    hauntingly strikes 
three times 
     on a cracked clock~
symbolic
   I sense middle age 
is coldly creeping in...

my home is 
     deafening still
only the occasional 
   sound of the hum 
            of the refrigerator 

trauma-fueled dread 
   has kept me 
          internally isolated
yet I am not truly alone...

could I have 
   found inherent happiness  
If I had soothed 
    beastly wounds 
 before they festered?  

is there still time 
  to clear out this 
       dominating infection  
and suture the lacerations
before my existence 
     turns to dust~
when my fate’s threads 
    are finally cut
and the last flicker 
   of light dies out 
       from my corporeality?  

I want to know 
    that I tasted 
        euphoric ecstasy,  
for we have no idea  
What our afterlife’s 
           future holds.  ..

I think it’s time for me  
to ultimately 
    shake off these 
         stagnant bones
embrace trepidation
sink into 
   restorative shadow work,  
let my walls finally crumble~
and move 
        into my tomorrows  
with an 
          emotional tabula rasa.

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Lin Lane April 11, 2025 at 6:53 AM I admit I had to google tabula rasa and have to agree perhaps it's best to move into our tomorrows without a preconceived idea of what to expect. This is a very well written reflective poem on what was and what is yet to come, Sara. Sara Jama April 13, 2025 at 6:21 AM Thank you so much. Yes I do like some Latin occasionally. Lol