Sketching the Past
The places of our past are ingrained
Stop fidgeting, they won’t go away
They long to be placed under lock and key
To bring us more pain for we can see
The power of the presence of their kind
The unlikelihood of their passing by
But their tower objection to be lost
By the wayward intellect at no cost
I cannot fathom their interest in us
The power towards infection, lack of trust
Leading us astray, but keeping us here
Longing for the ways that we could steer
Worlds apart, they don’t even start for me
But paths delinquent, and spot on certainly
Without much thought of their glance
They don’t give me much of a chance
Stop nagging, they intimidate my soul
The play rolls on forever, it surely doles
Out without suspicion, just self-reliant
And every place it goes, I’m still defiant
To this day the past remains in place
Firmly – without even a way to escape
It talks to me in my sleep, nightmares employ
Lost upon my pillow, I do not enjoy
Tomorrow is another day, filled with spite
If I cannot rid my mind of this fight
To be in the present without much thinking
Of the past spelling the way out blinking
Upon the grass weeds of horrors
Nothing allows the timepiece colors
In only black and white it moves forward
Stuck in one place, as I move onward
Russell Sivey
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