Shutter

Shuddering, closing in the dark

a gust of wind blows, open, close, open, close

oh, to be like a flower in a field

swaying, smoothly, intentional in every move

from the same wind, that pushes me over

blows me over, I’m a pushover

bring with you hell and high water

I’ll lay silent beneath them, thinking, perhaps

moving not, wanting certainly.

sturdily yearning amidst the incessant quivering

too unsure to budge, hoping I’m forced

don’t want to choose, for all that is wrong

seems always to be mine in all ways

never walking means never falling

never waking means always dreaming

consciousness, in its attempted reason

its torturous sequence, yes, no, yes, no,

maybe, sometimes wrong, never truly right

standing tall then a falling wall

make up my mind, and my heart cries

spilling over, overflowing, I want

but instead in silence I am

feeling only when wind races by

pounding these shutters over me

clouting my spirit, beating my heart

back to life.

- Jessica Mary