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Survival Strategy

Each day he felt the distance growing,
separating him from where and who
they thought he should want to be.
Though he was adrift in the currents
of prevailing winds, he felt the pull
of strong undertows -- and he didn't know
to which he should acquiesce
or against which he should struggle.
He neither acquiesced nor struggled.
"Didn't he think he should shave, shower 
regularly, get a hair cut, lose weight, 
shine his shoes, change  clothes, 
and show up early?
Shouldn't he set an example?"
He wanted to imagine a "but" 
to refute apparent logic, 
could do no better than to scribble 
description which drifted across 
the pad, influenced by other 
undertows. He tried to last, having 
once believed in the universal 
flux, but could no longer. Finally, 
he avoided mirrors and others' 
eyes, kept to the rooms' darker 
corners, and no longer engaged 
in conversation -- not even with himself.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Walsh Avatar
May 4, 2011 at 10:21 AM
Beautifully written - empathetic piece. Good stuff! Liz
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